THE 


GREEN    MOUNTAIN 


'   (Snttrtainment. 


THE 


GREEN    MOUNTAIN 


Unrfrelhrs*   $nttrtainmeiit. 


JOSIAH  BAKNES,  SEN. 


NEW  YORK : 
DERBY  &  JACKSON,   498   BROADWAY. 

1861. 


ENTICED  according  to  Act  of  Congreu,  in  the  year  18(5,  by 

J.  C.  DERBY, 
h  tke  Clerk'*  Qffle*  of  the  DUtrict  Court  for  the  Southern  Dutrict'of  New  York. 


W    H.  TiN»r.N,  St«rtolyper  PDDMr  A    KCKXLL,    PriuUr* 


tthtt. 


A  FEW  preliminary  words,  dear  reader  which  you 
can  run  over  in  less  than  a  minute. 

There  is  one  thing  certain  of  writers :  they  cannot 
hide  their  imperfections.  Defenseless  individuals  they 
are,  and  it  would  seem  that  they  ought  on  that 
account  alone  to  be  charitably  contemplated.  More 
over  they  work  for  the  gratification  of  their  fellows — • 
searching  heaven  and  earth — often  times  the  other 
place,  too — for  things  which  they  may  reduce  to 
communicable  shape.  They  wear  out  brain,  inuscle 
— turn  night  into  day,  and  shed  ink  incalculably. 
All  this  they  do  with  the  fear  of  the  Public  constantly 
before  their  eyes,  and  with  a  nice  regard  to  the 
Public's  wants.  Are  they  not  entitled  to  charity? 
If  they  are  not,  I,  as  an  humble,  self-styled  member 
of  the  fraternity,  distinctly  state,  that  I  don't  know 
why. 

The  book  which  you  are  now  going  to  read  (if 
according  to  Todd's  advice  you  are  reading  the 
preface  first)  is  just  what  it  is — imperfect  in  many 
places,  yet  as  a  whole  pretty  much  what  I  expected 
to  make  it.  I  started  out  with  the  intention  of  pro- 

2052372 


VI  PREFACE. 

ducing  something  that  all  those  who  read  for  amuse 
ment  merely  would  find  acceptable.  I  hope  I  have 
succeeded.  I  have  worked  hard  enough  for  it,  I  know. 
I  have  worked  earnestly,  too.  The  characters  which 
you  will  meet  with  have  not  been  mere  idle  phantoms 
to  me.  I  have  laughed  and  I  have  wept  with  them. 
The  thread  of  their  lives  has  been  mine.  And  they 
have  not  passed  away.  Oh,  no !  They  live  as  really 
to  my  soul  as  the  friend  who  sits  beside  me  now . 

But  I  will  not  tire  you.  I  want  you  to  begin  fresh. 
And  I  want  you  to  read  right  along,  too.  "When  you 
discover  a  fault,  don't  let  your  mind  dwell  upon  it ; 
for  if  you  do,  you'll  miss  the  spirit  of  all  that  follows, 
make  yourself  sour,  and  pain  me — if  I  should  ever 
know  it. 

With  my  best  wishes, 

J.    B.,    SEN. 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER. 

A.  Storm — The  Old  Inn — The  Writer  esconced  for  the  Night — His  Introduc 
tion  to  a  company  of  Fellow  Travellers — A  systematic  Entertainment  pro 
posed—Proposition  accepted,  and  a  Person  chosen  to  lead  off • 

CHAPTER  n. 

THE  LITTLE  DRY  MAN'S  STORT. 

His  Birth — Childhood— Youth— His  getting  in  Love — Rivalship — Grievous  Dis 
appointment — Crime — Journey  to  Naples — Return — Intolerable  Remorse— 
Self-Banishment  to  Germany — Second  Love — Marriage — Death  of  his  Wife — 
Return  of  Remorse — Dissipation — Ruin — Salvation  from  imminent  Death — 
Return  home — Wandering  again  to  escape  the  Pangs  of  the  undying  Worm..  21 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  SUPPOSED  LAWYER'S  STORY. 

His  leaylng  Home — Short  Experience  in  the  City — Going  to  Sea — A  Storm — 
Wreck 64 

CHAPTER  IV. 

SUPPOSED  LAWYER'S  STORY  CONTINUED. 

Going  again  to  Sea — Monotonous  Experience— Adventure  with  Pirates— Pre« 
sentiments-Dream— Struggle  for  Life— Thrilling  Sequel  99 


Vi  CO  NTE  NTS. 

CHAPTER  V. 
Incidents  of  &  Day  at  the  Old  Inn — Renewal  of  the  Entertainment 153 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  QUAKER'S  STORT. 

His  Childhood — Seraph — The  light-colored  Lie — Seraph's  Death — His  Grief- 
New  Acquaintance— Joshua — Story  about  old  Doctor  Shaum — Renewal  of  old 
Acquaintance  under  other  Circumstances — Fanny,  and  so  forth — A  good 
deal  of  it 164 

CHAPTER  VII. 
QUAKER'S  STORT  CONTINUED. 

His  Youth — Studies  Medicine — Malpractice  of  one  S.  loom — Great  Tribula 
tion — Gradual  Emancipation — Sweet  Things — Presentiments — Goes  to  Europe 
— Further  Malpractice  of  S.  Toom — Detained  Prisoner  of  War— Return  Home 
— Overwhelming  Grief — Despair — Ray  of  Light — Happy  Ending 288 

•CHAPTER    VIII. 

ELLEN'S  GRAVE. 
The  Child— The  Maiden— Euin— Death ^ ..% til 


THE 


GREEI    MOUNTAIN 

TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT. 


INTKODUCTOKY  CHAPTER 

FROM  an  old  memorandum  book,  lying  in  my 
drawer,  I  find  that  in  the  summer  of  1836  I  was 
travelling  in  the  State  of  Yermont.  My  route  lay 
to  the  northwest  from  Montpelier,  through  a  sterile 
and  thinly  populated  district.  For  want  of  a  more 
expeditious  and  luxurious  mode  of  conveyance,  I  was 
travelling  on  horseback. 

The  day  had  been  fair  and  agreeable  throughout; 
but  as  the  sun  drew  near  his  setting,  an  ominous  sign, 
in  the  shape  of  a  long  black  cloud,  loomed  slowly 
from  the  western  horizon.  It  grew  larger  as  it  arose— 

1* 


10  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

blacker,  broader,  like  a  rising  hemisphere,  seemingly 
annihilating  the  golden  sky  in  its  course.  The  sun 
went  down  behind  it,  setting  a  resplendent  diadem 
upon  its  great  brow,  which,  however,  soon  faded,  and 
the  night  came  on  gloomily.  Red  flashes  from  time 
to  time  lit  up  the  rugged  depths  of  that  majestically 
rising  cloud,  and  an  oppressive  stillness  came  down 
like  the  dew.  Fascinated  and  absorbed  with  the 
imposing  spectacle,  which  the  playful  lightnings  re 
vealed,  I  rode  on  leisurely,  not  noticing  that  the 
night  had  fully  set  in.  A  brighter  flash,  centered  with 
a  darting  gleam,  startled  me  from  my  reverie ;  and  as 
the  heavy  thunder  lumbered  away  with  its  fast/increas 
ing  train  of  echoes,  I  spurred  my  horse  into  a  gallop. 
An  hour  or  so  before,  a  pedestrian  had  informed 
me  that  I  would  find  a  public  house  about  three  miles 
ahead.  Unhappily  for  me,  my  informant  had  chanced 
to  be  an  honest  Dutchman,  lately  arrived  in  the  land 
of  pumpkins  and  wooden  condiments,  and  therefore 
spoke  of  miles  in  that  transcendental  sense  which  is 
the  fashion  of  his  country.  This  I  was  not  aware  of 
at  the  time,  and  had,  with  commendable  sincerity, 
construed  his  answer  to  mean  three  English  miles. 
Where  is  the  public  house  ?  was  my  first  thought,  on 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  11 

getting  my  horse  fairly  into  a  gallop.  Surely  my 
three  miles  are  up,  I  continued,  seeing  nothing  in  any 
direction  that  resembled  a  habitation  of  man.  But 
the  darkness  limited  my  investigations,  and  I  was  left 
to  push  on  along  the  narrow  unfenced  path,  trusting 
for  safety  to  my  horse's  sagacity,  and  to  my  own 
judgment,  spasmodically  enlightened  by  the  fast- 
increasing  flashes  of  lightning. 

On  I  went  at  a  rapid  rate,  calculating  the  distance 
I  should  be  able  to  ride,  after  the  rain  should  have 
seriously  commenced,  before  my  summer  suit  would 
cease  to  be  protection  against  the  torrent.  On,  on. 
The  heavy  voice  of  the  angry  storm  coming  to  meet 
me,  the  pealing  thunder,  the  quick  gleams  that  lit  up 
the  rolling,  tumbling,  distracted  mass  overhead,  sng- 
gested  every  moment  the  increasing  necessity  of 
shelter.  Yet  no  shelter  appeared.  I  reined  my 
horse  to  a  walk  once,  thinking  that  I  saw  a  house  ; 
but  the  next  flash  proved  it  an  illusion.  Again, 
under  full  speed,  I  rushed  along,  leaving  the  superin 
tendence  of  locomotion  wholly  to  my  horse,  being 
absorbed  myself  in  directing  my  vision  most  wistfully 
for  some  memento  of  man..  But  the  livid  lightning 
revealed  nothing  besides  livid  wastes  of  little  hills 


12  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

and  stony  plains.  At  length  ray  horse  gave  signs  of 
fatigue,  which  I  knew,  from  his  mettle,  had  been  con 
cealed  to  the  utmost,  and  would  be  followed  by  a 
general  giving  out.  I  had  scarcely  become  conscious 
of  this  new  feature  in  my  dilemma,  when  the  big, 
precursory  drops  began  to  fall.  "  Alas !  it  is  inevi 
table,"  I  said  to  myself,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  added, 
"  let  it  come !"  And  it  came — hail  first,  pelting  re 
morselessly,  thereafter  a  great  flood,  suffocatingly 
wet.  I  reined  my  horse  to  a  disguised  trot,  which  he 
voluntarily  merged  into  a  walk,  and  composed  my 
inner  man  in  accordance  with  the  best  philosophy  I 
could  summon  at  the  moment.  For  a  full  hour  I  rode 
on.  Still  it  rained — stilt  no  public  house.  My 
clothes  and  skin  had  almost,  from  the  first  dash,  been 
so  intimately  connected,  that  they  seemed  equally 
parts  of  my  body ;  and  from  my  hands  and  feet,  and 
all  other  possible  extremities,  ran  steady  streams  of 
the  liquid  element.  Human  dignity  had  taken  solemn 
flight,  and  human  patience — even  the  very  patient 
portion  which  I  possessed — was  aboui  following, 
when  the  rain  suddenly  ceased,  and  the  moon  as  sud 
denly  came  forth,  revealing  to  me,  among  other 
tilings  of  less  interest,  the  long-wished-for  public 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  13 

house.  It  was  hard  by. ,  A  few  minutes  brought  me 
to  it,  and  a  few  more  minutes  found  me  with  a  dry- 
suit  on,  and  a  dry  yet  fragrant  cigar  in  my  mouth. 
I  sat  down  calmly  by  the  capacious  fire-place,  and 
poking  open  the  slumbering  embers,  I  stroked  the  in- 
sides  of  my  legs,  and  felt  anxiety  and  ill-humor 
creeping  up  to  my  scalp,  there  to  disappear  in  my 
hair,  and  comfort,  like  a  full  gush  of  sunshine,  taking 
their  place.  I  imbibed  two  or  three  draughts  of 
soothing  pleasure  from  my  cigar,  and  looked  around 
the  room.  It  was  a  large  one,  and  utterly  devoid  of 
even  the  semblance  of  ornament.  The  bare  joists 
were  smoked  to  perfection  of  brown,  and  the  walls, 
which  were  of  hewn  logs,  were  of  the  same  hue, 
modified  and  varied  with  occasional  material  accumu 
lations  from  "man  and  beast."  The  fireplace  was 
large  enough  to  typify  the  "  broad  road"  of  psalmodic 
memory,  and  was  made  of  stone  without  mortar. 
A  row  of  benches — the  homoeopathic  dilution  of  an 
architectural  idea,  ran  along  the  four  sides  of  the 
room,  interrupted  only  by  a  square  box  in  one  cor 
ner,  which  reminded  me  of  that  box  where  men 
sometimes  speak  the  truth.  In  the  box  was  a  lean, 
blear-eyed,  long-nosed,  long-haired,  long-figured, 


14:  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

on-the-whole-quite-unprepossessing  young  man.  On 
two  sides  of  him  were  ranged  on  four  shelves  about  a 
score  of  bottles  and  decanters  of  various  shapes  and 
sizes.  A  big  tumbler — bless  the  generosity  of  a  by 
gone  age  ! — set  upon  the  front  edge  of  the  box,  which 
edge,  for  convenience,  I  suppose,  was  made  about  six 
inches  wide.  Over  the  young  man's  head  hung  a 
plain,  heavy-looking  gun,  accompanied  with  a  powder 
flask,  which  might  have  served  for  the  horn  of  plenty. 
There  were  but  two  chairs  in  the  room,  both  of  which 
were  as  rigidly  plain  as  an  axe  could  make  them.  In 
one  of  those  chairs  I  sat ;  and,  after  finishing  my 
local  survey,  I  again  rubbed  my  legs,  and  felt  bad 
humor  travelling  towards  my  hair,  and  fresh  comfort 
warming  me  all  over. 

"  Bad  storm  to-night,"  said  I  to  the  lean  young 
man,  my  excess  of  comfort  having  overcome  my  pre 
possession  against  him. 

"  I  guess  yew  orter  know,"  he  responded,  with  a 
sort  of  starved  grin. 

"  Many  travellers  loc^ge  here  to-night,  ?"  I  hastened 
to  inquire. 

"  Five  'r  six  'r  half  a  dozen,  p'rhaps,"  he  briefly  an« 
Bwered,  looking  towards  the  outside  door. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  15 

"Where  are  they?"  I  asked,  with  another  flush  of 
comfort ;  for  I  had  experience  enough  in  travelling  to 
know  that  where  half  a  dozen  wayfaring  men  are  met 
together,  there  is  also  the  suirit  of  something  not  alto 
gether  barren.  • 

"  Perhaps  yew'd  like  to  see  'em,"  politely  anticipa 
ted  my  box  acquaintance. 

"I  would,"  said  I,  rising,  and  walking  towards 
him. 

"  They're  in  the  stoop  out  front,"  he  began,  coming 
out  of  his  place,  and  walking,  with  great  earnest  strides, 
to  the  outside  door.  I  followed. 

"  There,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  more  distant  end 
of  the  covered  platform,  and  wheeling,  strode  back  to 
his  stronghold. 

Left  to  introduce  myself,  I  walked  forward.  I  drew 
near  unobserved,  for  two  of  the  company  were  en 
gaged  in  a  discussion  which  fastened  the  attention  of 
the  rest.  There  were  six  of  them.  The  first  that 
attracted  my  attention  was  the  one  who  was  speaking 
at  the  moment.  His  dress  was  cut  after  the  Quaker 
fashion,  yet  he  was  smoothly  shaven  and  decently 
shorn,  and  his  speech  had  all  the  elegant  intonation 
and  grammatical  correctness  of  scholastic  refinement 


16  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

I  was  strongly  prepossessed  in  his  favor  at  the  first 
glance,  for  I  clearly  perceived,  in  his  easy,  elegant 
manner,  a  geniality,  and  a  quiet,  fascinating  humor 
which  indicated  that  he  had  learned  the  true  lesson  of 
life  by  heart,  and  bore  it  as  an  amule.t  about  him. 
His  antagonist  in  debate  appeared  to  be  a  lawyer. 

The  tautology  and  mechanical  arrangement  of  his 
speech,  as  well  as  his  declamatory  manuer,  indicated 
it.  He  was  a  stoutly  built  man,  with  thick,  nicely 
turned  side-whiskers,  and  a  cut  of  lip  that  spoke  of 
dignified  resolution ;  and  when  I  saw  his  heavy  hand 
descend  upon  his  stalwart  thigh,  to  give  emphasis  to 
his  suppressed  tones,  I  fancied  it  might  strike  mortal 
blows  where  great  things  should  be  at  stake. 

Among  the  listeners  was  a  rotund,  floi  id-faced, 
semi-centenarian.  He  appeared  to  be  quite  bald  in 
the  moonlight  that  night,  with  his  hat  off.  There 
were  deep  crescent  wrinkles  in  his  cheeks  and  brow, 
which  showed  how  natural  it  had  always  been  for  him 
to  laugh,  even  at  things  too  stale  for  other  men.  His 
eyes  were  large  and  staring,  like  a  fish's ;  and  as  I 
looked  at  him,  sitting  there  resting  his  chin  upon  the 
head  of  his  cane,  gazing  intently  at  the  disputants,  his 
face  bearing  that  stereotyped  expression  of  jollity 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  17 

which  seemed  to  mock  the  seriousness  that  had  taken 
possession  of  him,  I  could  not  help  but  laugh  a  little 
in  secret.  By  his  side  sat  a  small  man,  and  a  most 
singular  phenomenon  he  was.  He  had  the  appearance 
of  having  been  smoked  and  dried  to  the  last  degree 
consistent  with  physical  life.  His  hair  was  dry  and 
thin,  as  were  also  his  garments.  The  skin  of  his  face 
was  most  unreasonably  and  inextricably  wrinkled, 
and  his  mouth  and  eyes  were  greatly  sunken.  But 
there  was  a  fulness  in  his  brow  and  a  quickness  in  his 
eye  that  betokened  something  not  manifested  by  the 
rest  of  his  person.  The  remaining  two  were  staunch 
farmer-like  looking  men,  who  had  undoubtedly  done 
good  service  to  themselves,  their  families,  and  their 
country,  yet  were  too  modest  to  allude  to  it,  or  to 
anything  else  when  there  was  an  opportunity  to  listen. 
Such  were  the  "  five  'r  six,  'r  half  dozen"  travellers 
whom  my  lean  acquaintance  had  pointed  out.  After 
listening  for  a  few  minutes  to  the  discussion,  which 
from  a  serious  political  argument  was  passing  rapidly 
to  a  mere  play  of  words  for  the  amusement  of  the 
listeners,  I  determined  to  advance  and  take  an  active 
part  in  the  conversation,  being  somewhat  addicted  to 
political  wrangling. 


18  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

While  debating  within  as  to  the  appropriate  man 
ner  of  introducing  myself,  I  became  aware  of  the  disa 
greeable  shortness  of  my  cigar.  Not  to  be  embarrassed 
by  any  unnecessary  hindrance  I  plucked  it  from  my 
mouth,  and  from  a  cursory  view,  seeing  no  more 
eligible  direction,  I  squared  myself  to  throw  it  over 
the  heads  of  the  parties  disputing.  I  stood  about  ten 
feet  from  them,  and  not  calculating  the  distance  prop 
erly,  I  had  the  unspeakable  mortification  of  seeing  the 
fiery  stub  take  its  own  course,  which  proved  so  wide 
from  the  one  I  had  intended,  that  it  struck  with 
remarkable  precision  upon  the  nasal  organ  of  the  ele 
gant  Quaker.  It  was  the  work  of  but  an  instant  to  step 
forward,  and  most  humbly  and  seriously  apologize,  for 
I  was  really  very  much  mortified.  He  looked  upon 
ine  with  a  good-natured  smile,  and  said,  "  My  friend, 
put  a  little  more  powder  to  your  shot  next  time  ; 
shooting  below  the  mark  is  a  very  common  misfortune 
in  this  world,"  and  wiping  his  soiled  nose  with  great 
nicety,  he  put  the  whole  affair  into  his  pocket  with 
his  handkerchief. 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  let  me  offer  some  slight  atonement 
to  you  and  to  the  company  for  the  interruption  I  have 
caused  to  your  entertainment.  Will  any  or  all  of  you 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  19 

step  in  and  take  a  cigar — in  contffemoration,"  I  contin 
ued  with  an  effort  of  pleasantry,  "  of  the  most  uncivil 
deed  just  committed  ?"  They  responded  unanimously 
in  favor  of  my  proposition,  and  we  all  went  in  and 
took  peaceable  possession  of  seven  good  cigars.  By 
common  consent  we  remained  in  the  bar-room,  and  I 
became  at  once  an  accepted  member  of  the  company. 

We  all  sat  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  each  smok 
ing  and  spitting  after  his  own  individual  manner 
At  length  the  silence,  which  was  reaching  quite  an 
unpromising  depth,  was  broken  all  to  smash  by  the 
supposed  lawyer's  bursting  out,  "  Well,  gentlemen  ol 
— this — present  company,  what's  to  be  done  ?  This 
won't  do.  Here  are  six — seven  cigars  going  like  so 
many  steam  mills,  and  nothing  but  smoke  being 
turned  out,  eh  ?" 

"  I  suggest,"  piped  in  the  little  dry  man,  with  a 
voice  and  manner  that  reminded  me  vividly  of  a 
choked  hen — "  I  suggest  that  some  one  be  appointed 
to  tell  a  story." 

"  Then  you  hit  it,"  responded  the  first  speaker,  em 
phatically.  A  general  shifting  of  legs  and  discharge 
of  saliva  betokened  the  approval  with  which  the  sug 
gestion  was  met  by  the  rest. 


20  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

"  And,  moreover,"  I  ventured  to  add,  u  let  us 
organize  and  proceed  regularly  to  the  appointment." 

"  Agreed !"  closed  in  the  lawyer.  "  Here  I  am, 
now,  in  this  chair,  president.  Let's  have  the 
motion." 

"  But," commenced  some  one — 

"  Waiving  all  irregularities  as  to  my  getting  my 
office,"  interrupted  the  lawyer,  "let's  have  the 
motion." 

Without  further  preliminary  ado,  a  motion  was 
made,  seconded,  and  passed,  to  wit — that  he,  the  pre 
sident,  be  vested  with  the  power  of  appointing  the 
first  one  to  attempt  the  proposed  entertainment. 
Whereupon  he  said,  "  Well,  let's  see.  The  first,  of 
course,  will  be  a  victim.  I'll  punish  the  suggestor. 
Sir !"  addressing  the  dry  man,  "  you  I  appoint,  in 
virtue  of  my  delegated  power,  to  narrate  a  tale  for 
the  amusement  of  this  present  company.  Proceed  to 
four  duty,  and  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  you." 

We  all  laughed  a  little  at  the  bombastic  pleasantry 
of  the  president ;  and,  when  entire  silence  was  re 
stored,  the  dry  man  removed  his  cigar  from  his  mouth, 
and,  with  a  dignity  and  precision  that  surprised  me, 
spoke  in  the  substance  of  the  following  chapter. 


TBAVELLEKS'    ENTEKTAINJIENT.  21 


CHAPTER  II. 

ME.  PRESIDENT  AND  GENTLEMEN. — You  require  a 
hard  tiling  of  me.  I  am  no  story-teller.  I  am  not 
social.  I  have  not  that  gush  of  fellow-feeling  which 
so  warms  the  heart  and  makes  brilliant  the  intellect. 
I  have  lost  it  all.  G-one,  gone  with  sunny  days  once 
mine.  I  am  a  gloomy  man,  yet  I  do  not  wish  to 
communicate  my  gloom  to  you.  Oh  !  far  from  it.  I 
have  suggested  a  thing  here  to-night,  which  I  hoped 
might  make  the  time  pass  more  smoothly.  I  had  no 
intention  of  taking  a  part,  except  as  a  listener.  And 
now  that  I  am  forced  to  take  the  part  which,  by  my 
consent,  devolves  upon  me,  I  know  not  that  I  shall  be 
able  to  forward  the  design  I  had  in  making  the  sug 
gestion.  I  have  no  trivial  tale  to  relate.  I  know 
none.  There  is  but  one  story  in  my  mind.  It  is  the 
story  of  my  life.  If  you  will  hear  that,  listen.  I  will 
be  brief.  I  wish  you  could  excuse  me.  Yet  it  will 
not  be  without  a  certain  pleasure— a  bitter,  melan- 


22  GEEEBT   MOUNTAIN 

choly  pleasure  indeed,  but  still  a  pleasure — 'for  me  to 
tell  you  what  has  been  my  lot  in  this  world. 

I  was  an  only  child.  I  was  born  at  sea,  on  board  a 
vessel  from  Liverpool,  bound  for  Calcutta.  An  old 
sailor,  who  made  some  pretensions  to  astrological  eru 
dition,  remarked  on  deck,  after  hearing  that  a  child  had 
just  come  into  the  world  in  the  cabin  below,  "  God 
forbid !  That  child  had  better  never  been  born.  He 
will  have  a  heavy  sea  to  ride.  Let  them  look  well 
to  his  build."  This  my  father  told  me  many  years 
after,  as  I  bent  to  receive  his  dying  blessing. 

My  father  was  at  the  time  of  my  birth  engaged  in 
the  East  India  trade.  He  had  been  peculiarly  pros 
perous,  and  was  the  possessor  of  an  immense  fortune. 
Yet  unsatisfied,  he  had  again  risked  the  dangers  of 
the  sea  and  a  tropical  climate,  to  add  a  few  more 
thousands  to  his  almost  boundless  wealth.  My  mother 
had  always  accompanied  him  in  his  voyages,  choosing 
to  risk  her  life  rather  than  suffer  the  pangs  of  anxiety 
during  his  absence.  I  remember  but  little  about  her, 
for  we  were  not  long  together.  God  grant  that  we 
may  meet  again!  I  might  forget  the  past  in  her 
serene  presence. 

My  childhood  was  pretty  much  like  other  child- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  23 

hoods,  I  suppose.  Yet  there  are  two  incidents,  very 
vivid  in  my  memory,  which  happily  do  not  always 
make  a  part  of  children's  experience.  The  first  which 
I  shall  relate  was  an  adventure  in  which  I  m  ost  sin 
gularly  escaped  a  horrible  death. 

My  father  was  very  fond  of  filling  up  his  leisure 
with  hunting.  He  was  a  daring  man,  and  had  the 
reputation  of  being  the  sharpest  shot  in  all  the  region 
round  about.  He  rode,  on  his  hunting  excursions,  a 
powerful  and  well-trained  horse,  whose  nimbleness, 
and  almost  human  sagacity,  had  been  of  essential  ser 
vice  to  him  in  many  a  bloody  and  desperate  encoun 
ter  with  that  most  ferocious  and  dreadful  of  wild 
beasts — the  tiger. 

I  think  I  must  iiave  been  about  five  years  old,  when 
one  morning,  as  my  father  was  preparing  for  his  cus 
tomary  hunting  excursion,  I  took  it  into  my  head  to 
accompany  him.  I  accordingly  laid  my  wish  before 
him,  and  was  astonished  to  find  that  he  would  not  hear 
to  it  at  all.  I  pressed  into  service  every  means  of 
persuasion  I  could  muster,  but  he  only  patted  my 
head,  and  told  me  to  go  to  my  mother  now,  and  I 
should  hunt  when  I  should  get  to  be  a  big  man  like 
himself.  This  did  not  satisfy  me,  and  I  went  away 


24  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

grumbling,  and  determined  to  go  anyhow.  I  watched 
the  direction  they  took,  and  arming  myself  with  a  toy 
spring-gun  I  set  out  after  them.  I  was  soon  out  of 
sight  of  my  father's  house,  toiling  on  with  great  ima 
ginary  bravery  along  the  beaten  track  worn  by  the 
hunters  in  their  frequent  excursions  from  town.  As  1 
was  strutting  along,  entirely  impregnable  to  the  idea 
that  I  might  get  lost,  I  came  to  a  narrow  path  leading 
off  from  the  main  track,  which  had  such  a  cool,  leafy, 
romantic  appearance  that  I  took  it,  and  pursued  its 
course  for  perhaps  an  hour,  when  it  suddenly  ended 
in  a  dark  pool  to  which  not  a  bit  of  sunshine  pene 
trated.  For  the  first  time  I  began  to  feel  uneasy.  1 
began  tD  think  about  my  mother  and  home,  and  con 
tinued  to  think  about  them  until  I  was  overcome  with 
the  feeling,  and  cried  heartily.  Crying  relieved  me 
and  made  me  brave  again,  and  I  took  up  the  spring- 
gun,  which  I  had  thrown  down  in  my  incipient  de 
spair, —  determined  to  make  my  way  back  to  the 
main  track.  I  went  on  very  vigorously  for  some  time, 
growing  very  impatient  at  the  seemingly  interminable 
length  of  the  narrow,  crooked  path  before  me.  Fi 
nally  I  became  sensible  of  fatigue.  It  gained  rapidly 
upon  me,  and  soon  my  aching  limbs  gave  out  entirely, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  25 

and  I  sank  down  by  a  thick  growth  of  underbrush,  my 
head  swimming  arid  my  eyes  pierced  with  keen  pains. 
The  exquisite  gratification  sitting  down  gave  me  made 
me  think  for  a  while  I  would  never  get  up  again. 

I  sat  there  some  considerable  time,  and,  at  last 
being  rested,  I  began  again  to  think  of  my  home,  and 
with  the  thought  came  an  awful  sense  of  fear.  Cold 
sweat  started  out  all  over  me.  I  jumped  up  and 
seized  my  little  gun,  but  quickly  dropped  it,  for  I  felt 
something  cold  and  slimy  contract  suddenly  in  my 
hand.  Fortunate  it  was  that  instinct  served  me  so 
promptly  and  faithfully,  for  a  viper  of  the  most  deadly 
character  shot  away  through  the  dead  leaves  like  an 
arrow.  I  had  grasped  it  in  my  hand !  I  again  picked 
up  my  gun  and  trudged  on — this  time  with  no  notion 
whatever  which  direction  I  was  taking,  and  with  no 
purpose  except  to  get  along — a  vague  idea  that  I 
should  get  home  before  dark  being  the  only  thought 
of  my  mind.  How  long,  how  very  long  was  that 
afternoon !  As  I  toiled  on  a  kind  of  insensibility  came 
over  me.  I  neither  cried  nor  felt  afraid ;  and  I  really 
began  to  feel  that  the  woods  were  not  so  very  bad  a 
place  after  all.  Towards  sunset,  as  I  sat  by  a  large 
decaying  log,  busied  with  plucking  some  tiny  flowers 

2 


26  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

for  lay  mother,  who  I  knew  was  very  fond  of  them, 
I  felt  myself  suddenly  seized  by  some  irresistible  power 
and  borne  away  through  the  thicket  with  a  wild  rush 
which  so  bewildered  me  that  I  could  not  stir  a  limb. 
I  had  never  seen  a  tiger  alive,  but  I  instinctively  felt 
I  was  in  the  jaws  of  one.  Fortunately  my  clothes 

• 

held  the  weight  of  my  body,  for  his  keen  teeth  had 
only  seized  on  them.  Had  my  clothes  given  way  the 
second  hold  would  have  been  more  secure  !  I  had 
just  recovered  from  the  first  shock  sufficiently  to  be 
fully  conscious  of  my  situation,  when  I  felt  a  stinging 
sensation  in  my  head,  and  I  remember  no  more  until 
I  found  myself  in  the  arms  of  my  father.  I  heard  him 
relate  the  circumstance  of  my  rescue  to  my  mother  that 
night.  The  party  was  returning  from  an  unsuccessful 
hunt,  my  father  being  about  a  hundred  yards  in  ad 
vance.  Coming  out  of  a  jungle  he  saw  a  huge  tiger 
with  something  in  its  mouth,  stealing  along  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  glade  upon  which  he  had  just  entered. 
His  horse  saw  it  at  the  same  instant,  and  started  oif 
unbidden  in  full  pursuit.  The  action  of  the  horse 
surprised  my  father,  for  it  was  a  part  of  its  training 
never  to  commence  pursuit  voluntarily.  From  the 
nature  of  the  ground  my  father  was  aware  that  pur 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  27 

suit  \vould  be  not  only  fruitless  but  dangerous  ;  and, 
after  permitting  the  caprice  for  a  few  moments,  he 
attempted  to  rein  in  the  horse  for  the  purpose  of 
rejoining  the  company.  To  his  surprise  he  found 
himself  unable  to  do  it.  The  horse  seemed  in  a 
frenzy — so  fierce  was  its  eagerness  to  overtake  the 
wild  beast. 

After  two  or  three  unsuccessful  attempts  to  stop  or 
divert  the  horse,  which,  though  at  an  alarming  speed, 
did  not  gain  upon  the  tiger,  my  father  gave  a  sign  for 
the  company  to  follow,  and  yielded  himself  to  the 
direction  of  his  horse.  A  few  moments  more  and  tho 
tiger  turned  to  cross  the  glade,  which  was  long  and 
narrow.  It  was  in  fair  view.  It  was  the  only  chance, 
for  the  tiger  was  evidently  making  for  the  thicket, 
which  at  that  time  of  day  would  effectually  shield  it 
from  further  pursuit.  Though  at  an  unusual  distance 
he  determined  to  have  a  shot.  Utterly  unconscious 
of  the  to  him  infinite  importance  of  that  shot,  he  fired 
carelessly ;  but  some  good  angel  had  touched  his 
nerves,  and  the  bullet  pierced  the  heart  of  the  bound 
ing  tiger.  It  gave  a  tremendous  leap  in  the  air,  and 
fell  dead.  "Thanks  to  the  noble  horse!"  said  my 
father.  He  would  not  say  it  now  ! 


JiS  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

The  second  incident  that  varied  the  monotony  01 
my  childhood,  was  the  deatli  of  my  very  dear  mother. 
With  her  sunk  a  star  which  might  have  led  me  to 
another  destiny.  She  died  a  few  days  before  the 
anticipated  final  departure  of  us  all  to  England.  Her 
illness  was  short,  and  her  death  quite  unexpected,  as 
I  have  often  heard  my  father  say.  I  remember,  with 
the  utmost  distinctness,  though  but  in  my  sixth  year, 
how  she  looked  when  clothed  for  the  grave,  and  how 
my  father  wept,  standing  beside  her.  I  had  never 
before  seen  my  father  weep,  and  it  was  a  terrible  sight 
to  me.  I  remember  asking  him  why  he  talked  to  my 
poor  mother,  as  I  called  her,  who  was  dead,  and  could 
not  hear  him ;  and  I  wondered  why  he  took  me  up 
when  I  said  that,  and  hugged  me  so  long.  But  I 
understand  all  those  things  now ;  how  clearly  my 
story  will  show. 

Soon  after  my  mother's  death,  my  father,  with  me, 
embarked  for  England,  where  we  arrived,  after  a 
prosperous  voyage.  I  was  directly  placed  under  the 
grim  supervision  of  a  teacher  of  Greek  and  Latin, 
and  urged  through  the  usual  course  preparatory  to  the 
acquiring  of  my  vernacular.  Solemn  days  grew  into 
solemn  weeks  ;  and  the  latter  built  up  months — tedi- 


TRAVI.I.LKK'S'    ENTERTAINMENT.  29 

ous  montlis  from  which  came  years — two  long  years, 
of  which  I  have  but  a  cloudy  remembrance,  relieved 
by  occasional  beams  of  sunshine,  when  I  was  permit 
ted  to  go  with  my  father,  who  seemed  to  have  no  con 
trol  over  me,  into  the  country,  to  spend  a  week  after 
the  manner  of  joyous  childhood.  At  the  end  of  the 
two  years  I  was  placed  under  another  teacher,  who  was 
more  mild  and  genial,  and  who  improved  upon  the 
soil,  so  manured  and  harrowed  by  the  former  husband 
man  of  young  mind,  by  sowing  therein  seeds  of  more 
practical  knowledge.  "With  him  I  acquired  consider 
able  proficiency  in  reading,  writing,  and  speaking, 
according  to  rule,  my  mother  tongue.  I  remained 
with  him,  oif  and  on,  a  long  time — seven  years,  I 
think,  and  left  his  roof  to  enter  upon  the  treadmill 
course  of  "  collegiate  education."  Being  of  an  active 
turn,  and  quick  to  imbibe,  I  soon  attracted  consider 
able  attention  in  that  palace  of  words  and  diagrams, 
called  Oxford  University ;  but  it  was  short-lived.  1 
soon  tired  of  committing  Latin  paragraphs  and  Greek 
stanzas,  and  exhibiting  my  skill  in  mathematics,  by 
elaborately -solved  geometrical  problems  ;  and,  at  the 
advice  of  a  vocalist  of  considerable  note,  devoted 
myself  more  particularly  to  the  cultivation  of  a  talent 


SO  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

for  music,  which,  from  early  childhood,  I  had  mani 
fested  to  a  somewhat  remarkable  degree.  I  gave  up 
my  college  studies  altogether,  and,  at  the  age  of 
eighteen,  commenced  my  real  career.  My  natural 
gift  was  not  long  developing  under  the  excellent  tui 
tion  which  my  father's  wealth  brought  me.  At  the 
age  of  twenty  I  gave  my  first  concert,  which  was  re 
ceived  with  enthusiastic  applause,  and  introduced  me 
at  once  to  the  world  as  a  gifted  vocalist.  My  youth 
added  furor  to  the  public  sentiment  regarding  me, 
and  in  a  few  months  I  found  myself  the  burdened 
object  of  universal  admiration,  as  far  as  I  knew. 
These  were  happy  days.  Bright,  indeed,  do  they  ap 
pear  to  me  now,  far  over  the  dismal  desert.  I  have 
now  a  circumstance  to  relate,  which  was  the  subtle 
starting  point  of  all  my  woes.  And  let  me  premise, 
that  if,  in  what  follows,  I  exhibit  the  reflection  of  the 
heart-tearing  agonies  I  have  endured,  it  shall  not  be 
imputed  to  me  as  weakness  to  be  despised,  but  be 
charitably  contemplated. 

It  was  on  a  moonlight  evening.     I  was  returning 

t-5  O  o 

from  a  concert,  where  my  efforts  had  been  received 
with  unusual  applause,  and,  flushed  with  the  glory  of 
success,  was  passing  a  residence  of  splendid  exterior, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  31 

when  my  eye  was  caught  with  an  angelically  beautiful 
face,  turned  towards  the  slightly  waned  moon,  smil 
ing  down  from  midheavens.  The  owner  of  that  face 
was  leaning  over  a  low  gate ;  and  as  she  stood  there, 
looking  far  off  into  the  serene  sky,  so  divinely  beauti 
ful  did  she  appear,  that  I  involuntarily  stopped  to 
gaze  at  her,  I  stood  but  a  moment,  and  then  passed 
on ;  yet  the  image  remained  in  my  mind,  gradually 
deepening  into  my  heart.  From  that  moment,  I  was 
in  love ;  and  it  was  my  first  love,  deep,  pure,  and 
as  earnest  as  life. 

The  town  where  this  happened,  was  a  place  of  but 
temporary  sojourn  to  me  ;  and  though  I  had  no  inti 
mate  acquaintance  there  to  whom  I  could  confide  my 
desire  for  an  introduction,  I  yet  determined  to  have 
an  interview  with  the  object  upon  wrhich  my  imagi 
nation  had  taken  so  strong  a  hold.  Owing  to 
the  difficulty  I  have  mentioned,  it  was  several 
weeks  before  it  was  brought  about.  But  I  tri 
umphed  over  all  hindrances ;  and  one  balmy 
afternoon,  I  was  decently  and  auspiciously  presented 
to  the  young  lady,  whom  I  shall  call  Emily,  for 
convenience.  Unlike  some  moonlight  scenes,  I 
found  daylight  gave  additional  charm.  My  imagi- 


32  GKEEN   MOUNTADT 

nation  had,  meanwhile,  been  very  liberal,  but  I 
was  not.  long  in  discovering  that  it  had  not  even 
done  justice  to  her.  I  was  literally  entranced 
with  the  exquisite  grace  and  tenderness  of  her 
manner.  Her  exterior  entirely  displaced  my  beau 
ideal  of  female  beauty ;  and  when,  on  passing 
from  the  introductory  common-places  of  conver 
sation  to  more  solid  talk,  I  found  her  sensible 
and  thoughtful,  and  withal  witty,  you  may  well 
conclude  that  a  general  displacement  came  to  pass 
within  me.  I  was  intoxicated  with  the  ambrosial 
draught.  It  inspired  me,  and  I  discoursed  enthu 
siastically.  Finally,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  friend 
who  had  introduced  me,  I  sang;  I  sang  a  ballad 
which  had  a  mournful  ending;  and  as  I  dwelt 
with  deep  feeling  upon  the  last  refrain,  I  saw 
the  pearly  tears  chase  each  other  down  her  cheeks, 
pale  with  emotion. — Oh  !  that  was  a  happy  moment 
to  me — unutterably  happy.  Heaven  alone  can 
give  me  such  another.  I  departed  glowingly 
from  her  presence,  and  withdrew  myself  from 
the  companionship  of  the  friend  who  was  with 
me,  retiring  along  the  unfrequented  shores  of 
a  creek  in  the  vicinity,  to  think  over  the  things 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  33 

of  the  afternoon.  The  gushing  happiness  that  had 
at  first  overwhelmed  me,  passed  on  like  any- 
other  momentary  tide,  and  left  me  in  a  specu 
lative  mood.  '  It  was  my  song,  and  not  I,  that  had 
moved  her  so  deeply.  I  remembered  of  having 
seen  large  auditories  in  tears,  at  the  same  ballad, 
before.  "  I  have  made  no  especial  impression ; 
and  yet  " —  In  this  line  I  speculated  until  the 
tolling  of  a  distant  clock  admonished  me  of  the 
lateness  of  the  hour,  loth  to  arrive  at  any  con 
clusion,  because  the  right  one  could  not  be  arrived 
at  from  the  premises.  But  on  my  way  home,  I 
came  to  a  wholesome  determination,  which  was,  to 
lay  siege,  which,  if  needs  be,  I  would  turn  into 
a  blockade,  and  patiently  await  the  result.  I 
began  to  execute  my  plan  of  operation,  by  mak 
ing  it  convenient  to  pass  the  house  of  my  beloved 
two  or  three  times  a  day,  looking  up  the  thin 
time  of  passing  each  day.  I  generally  saw  her 
at  the  window  above.,  set  in  flowing  crimson,  and 
lace  curtains,  like  a  painted  picture.  One  day,  I 
caught  a  smile  of  recognition  from  her,  which 
encouraged  me — I  was  grown  wondrous  bashful— 
to  call  upon  her.  The  interview  was  long  and 

2* 


•5REEN    MOUNTAIN 

undisturbed  ;  yet  I  made  but  a  poor  figure,  being 
very  dull,  actually  sleepy,  though  it  was  in  the 
afternoon,  and  uncontrollably  absent-minded.  But  I 
was  far  from  insensible.  That  dear  *  image  went 
deeper  into  my  heart  at  every  gaze.  Her  man 
ner  towards  me  \vas  so  artless,  so  unreserved 
that  I  ventured  to  repeat  my  visit  after  a  short 
interval.  The  reception  I  met  with  was  ever  so 
cordial,  so  vivifying,  that  I  soon  ceased  to  draw 
pleasure  from  anything  else.  My  profession  was 
forgotten,  my  reputation,  my  friends,  everything 
but  the  sweet,  ever-thought-of  Emily.  I  wanted 
her  to  know  how  I  felt.  I  became  exceedingly 
impatient  to  dissolve  before  her,  and.  beseech  her 
to  love  me,  as  I  loved  her.  But  I  was  proud,  and 
feared  a  repulse.  She  was  ever  friendly  to  me, 
yet  nothing  more,  so  far  as  I  could  see.  I  knew 
she  was  fond  of  my  society,  loved  to  hear  me 
sing,  respected  my  taste,  studied  to  please  me. 
But  this  knowledge  gave  me,  no  satisfaction.  At 
length,  .1  became  after  a  manner  desperate,  and 
rushed  headlong  to  a  fierce  determination,  namely, 
that  I  would  tell  her  just  how  I  felt,  frankly, 
and  ask  her  frankly  what  was  to  be  done.  This 


TKAVELLKKS1  KNTKHTAINMENT.         35 

I  did  with  many  sighs,  and  some  tears;  and  was 
encouraged  to  hope  by  her  remaining  silent  the 
while.  When  the  scene  was  over,  she  took  my  hand, 
and  playfully  diverted  me  with  fancyings  oddly 
timed  yet  like  her — of  how  the  villages  in  America 
looked,  and  the  cottages,  and  the  great  forests,  the 
lakes,  the  solitary  streams,  the  quiet,  uninhabited 
valleys  of  which  she  had  read,  talking  on  so 
sweetly  for  an  hour.  Strange  girl !  thought  I,  as 
I  walked  home,  so  cool,  and  still  so  bewitching. 
A  shadow  fleeted  across  my  soul  that  night.  It 
was  the  first  dim  moving  of  the  dreadful  storm, 
whose  fruit  was  to  waste  my  life. 

So  much  time  had  been  squandered  in  pursuit  of 
this  sole  object  of  my  then  existence,  that  its  accumu 
lated  length  now  attracted  my  attention ;  and  I  felt  a 
dawning  conviction  of  the  necessity  of  changing  my 
social  habits  a  little.  Having  relieved  myself  of  a 
portion  of  the  burden,  I  found  it  not  at  all  disagreea 
ble  to  accept  the  next  invitation  to  attend  a  select 
party.  It  was  at  the  house  of  a  stranger,  and  my  at 
tendance  was,  I  might  say,  professional.  I  was  highly 
gratified  with  the  proceedings  of  the  evening,  until 
near  the  close,  when,  after  having  sung  to  the  over- 


whelming  satisfaction  of  the  company,  I  heard  some 
one  ask  another  member  of  the  party  if  he  also  would 
furnish  a  song.  It  seemed  to  me  a  little  out  of  taste, 
but  I  joined  the  rest  in  pressing  the  invitation.  The 
invited,  after  much  urging,  took  a  seat  at  the  piano. 
He  was  young  and  strikingly  handsome,  having  a  no 
ble  expression  of  countenance,  and  modest  demeanor. 
[  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  had  not  noticed  him 
particularly  that  evening.  With  subdued  touch  his 
fingers  ran  over  the  shining  keys,  and  in  a  moment  I 
felt  that  he  was  a  master.  In  the  trembling  chimes 
of  the  dying  prelude  his  voice  came  gently  into  har 
mony,  and  waved  off  into  a  gushing  melody  so  sweet 
and  unaffected,  yet  so  skillful, — again  I  felt  he  was  a 
master.  He  sang  one  song,  and  then  retired,  leaving 
the  room.  "  Who  is  he  ?"  asked  a  lady  near  me.  His 
name  was  given.  ISTo  one  of  the  party  had  ever  heard 
it  before,  except  the  informer. 

The  next  day  I  saw  an  announcement,  plentitully 
placarded  upon  the  fences  and  lamp-posts,  signifying 

that  a  Mr.  S would  favor  the  public  with  some 

choice  vocal  efforts  that  evening.  He  is  to  be  my 
rival,  eh  ?  I  reflected  with  a  tinge  of  bitterness,  for  I 
knew  his  power,  I  had  felt  it  the  night  previous. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.        37 

1  determined  to  go  and  hear  liim.  To  stay  away,  I 
wisely  thought,  would  be  accounted  jealousy.  And  I 
will  take  Emily,  too,  I  further  resolved,  and  she  shall 
thereby  know  the  nobleness  of  my  disposition.  At 
the  appointed  hour  for  the  concert,  I  called  upon 
Emily  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  the  latter  resolu 
tion  into  effect,  when,  to  my  great  discomfiture,  I 
found  her  just  at  the  point  of  starting  in  the  company 
of  the  young  vocalist  himself.  The  incident  was  as 
unexplainable  as  unexpected  to  me,  and  embarrassed 
me  very  much.  Yet  I  behaved  myself  as  well  as  I 
knew  how ;  and  she  was  so  friendly,  so  sincerely 
regretted  the  circumstance  that  was  to  deprive  her 
of  my  society  for  the  evening,  that  I  was  somewhat 
reinstated,  and  went  home  quite  calm,  forgetting, 
however,  that  I  ought  to  have  been  at  the  concert, 
until  it  was  quite  too  late.  The  next  day  the  whole 
city  was  vocal  with  praises  of  the  brilliant  Mr. 

S ,  which,   of  course,  grated  roughly  upon  my 

ear.  Not  so  much  because  his  sudden  splendor 
bedimmed  mine  in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  but  be 
cause  of  its  connection  with  my  Emily.  And  the 
dismal  uncertainty  I  labored  under  regarding  her 
feelings  towards  me  did  not  help  the  matter.  I 


38  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

thirsted  for  an  explanation.  That  evening  I  visited 
,  Emily  and  obtained  it. 

"  You  were  previously  acquainted  with  him  ?"  I 
remarked. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  "he  is  the  son  of  a  friend  of 
my  father.  No,  I  never  saw  him  until  last  night." 

This  was  great  relief.  My  chance  is  as  fair  as  his, 
then,  at  any  rate,  I  thought ;  and  we'll  see. 

A  letter  from  my  father,  urging  me  to  come  and 
see  him,  had  been  lying  in  my  drawer  for  several 
days  unanswered.  I.  had  taken  it  out  that  morning 
for  the  purpose  of  answering  it,  telling  him  I  could 
not  come.  Some  trivial  incident  had  diverted  me  from 
it  for  the  moment,  and  I  had  placed  it  in  my  pocket, 
and  forgotten  it.  On  pulling  my  handkerchief 
out  of  my  pocket  to  mollify  a  sneeze,  just  after  Emily 
had  uttered  her  explanation,  I  drew  with  it  the  letter. 
It  fell  upon  the  floor  before  her,  and  she  picked  it  up. 
"  Read  it,"  said  I.  "  It  is  from  the  best  of  fathers,  to, 
I  fear,  an  ungrateful  son." 

"Why  don't  you  go?"  she  remarked  on  finishing 
it.  I  blunderingly  hinted  at  the  true  reason,  and 
asked  hei  what  she  would  do  under  like  circum 
stances. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAIJSTMENT.  39 

"Go,  indeed  I  should.  Your  father  is  the  best 
friend  you  have  ou  earth."  I  groaned,  and  spoke  of 
something  else  ;  yet  inwardly  determined  to  go. 

Accordingly  I  went.  I  was  absent  several  weeks, 
undergoing,  meantime,  all  sorts  of  tortures.  Being 
far  distant  from  her,  I  could  reflect  more  coolly.  I 
brought  in  review  all  that  had  transpired,  and  was 
often  near  the  conviction  that  I  had  acted  very  fool 
ishly,  and  that  it  was  a  mere  wild-goose  chase  to 
attempt  to  arouse  any  passion  in  her.  So  near  was  I 
to  this  conviction,  that  I  believe  I  should  have 
ultimately  taken  an  oath  never  to  return — O !  that  I 
had  taken  such  an  oath ! — had  not  my  father,  after 
hearing  an  enthusiastic  description  of  the  place  from 
me,  proposed  making  it  his  permanent  residence.  I 
encouraged  the  proposition  ;  and  he  accordingly  dis 
posed  of  his  mansion  in  London,  where  he  was  then 
living,  and  we  together  set  out,  he  to  visit,  and  I  to 
return  to,  the  city  of  my  hopes  and  discontent. 

As  I  was  sitting  in  my  room  the  morning  after 
our  arrival  at  the  point  of  destination,  moodily  reflect 
ing,  I  experienced  a  sudden  enlightenment  from  the 
idea,  that  probably  my  fears  of  rivalship,  which  had 
grown  to  be  quite  formidable,  were  mere  moonshine. 


4:0  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

His  escorting  her  to  the  concert  was  merely  an  act 
of  gallantry  in  itself ;  and  I  had  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  it  must  necessarily  be  followed  by  further  amatory 
advances.  It  was  a  happy  thought,  and  comforted 
me  marvellously.  I  whistled  "  God  save  the  King  !" 
and  cut  a  dancer's  flourish,  in  which  I  tore  my  coat, 
and  expressed  my  satisfaction  in  two  or  three  other 
silly  ways,  being  alone  ;  and  then,  in  a  most  happy 
mood,  went  down  stairs  for  the  purpose  of  going  out 
to  call  on  my  old  acquaintances.  Just  as  I  reached 
the  outside  door,  my  eyes  wrere  tilled  with  an  object 
which  completely  astounded  me.  All  my  fears  came 
darkly  back  and  took  me  captive  again.  My  confu 
sion  and  abasement  were  indeed  quite  overwhelming, 
for  the  object  was  none  other  than  Emily,  my  adored, 

rosy  and  sparkling,   with  Mr.    S ,  smiling   and 

excited,  in  a  superb  carriage  passing  at  a  glorious 
rate.  "  Perhaps  they  are  going  now  on  their  wed 
ding  trip,  who  knows  ?"  said  I  bitterly  to  myself, 
willing  to  magnify  my  misery.  I  gazed  after  them, 
feeling  that  shadow  again  sweep  chillingly  over  my 
soul.  It  had  not  yet  reached  to  a  thought — dread 
parent  of  the  deed ! 

A  week  passed  before  I  called  on  Emily:  and 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  41 

almost  the  first  thing  she  said  to  me,  was  to  rehearse 
the  pleasures  of  that  ride,  the  commencement  of 
which  I  had  witnessed.  This  she  did  so  ingenuously, 
and  so  regretted  my  not  having  been  with  them,  that 
I  felt  ashamed  of  my  silly  suspicion,  and  of  the  senti 
ment  that  accompanied  it.  She  also  expressed 
exceeding  satisfaction  at  the  determination  of  my 
father,  "  which,"  said  she,  looking  tenderly  into  my 
face,  "  will,  I  am  sure,  secure  me  the  society  of  one 
devoted  friend  at  least."  If  I  had  not  known  her  as 
well  as  I  did,  I  should  have  taken  this  remark  as  an 
insult.  But  I  was  fully  aware  that  she  spoke  from 
her  inmost  heart,  and  it  only  made  me  love  her  the 
more. 

My  father  succeeded  in  purchasing  a  mansion 
suited  to  his  wishes,  and  we  took  possession  of  it,  my 
father  and  myself,  living  alone,  our  household  affairs 
being  regulated  by  an  aunt  of  mine,  who  had  to  the 
age  of  forty  lived  without  having  excited  the  serious 
desires  of  the  stronger  sex.  Having  a  home  again, 
and  its  new  attachments,  I  prosecuted  -my  siege  more 
leisurely,  ye"t  also  more  seriously.  After  the  lapse  of 
two  or  three  months,  my  impatience  overcame  me 
again,  and  I  repeated  my  ardent  declaration.  This 
time  my  importunity — I  was  really  desperate — over- 


42  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

came  her  patience,  and  she  frankly  told  me,  that  I 
was  too  impetuous ;  that  she  did  not  want  to  hear  me 
talk  so.  "When,  then,  O,  angel!"  I  exclaimed, 
insanely  fervent,  "shall  I  have  a  period  to  my 
woes?"  She  made  no  reply,  and  I  went  on.  "How 
shall  I  teach  you  to  love  me?  Can  I  make  any 
sacrifice  ?  Will  my  life  serve  you  ?  take  it.  It  is  no 
longer  mine,  but  thine,  my  dearest  Emily.  Can  you 
give  me  hope?"  To  this,  and  much  more  like  unto 
it,  she  said  nothing.  Suspicion  crept  into  my  excited 
soul,  and  I  gave  it  voice.  "Would  you  be  mine 
were  it  not  for  another?"  She  made  no  reply.  She 
was  weeping.  I  interpreted  her  emotion  my  own 
way.  "  She  loves  another,  but  will  not  make  me  an 
enemy,"  I  said  deep  in  my  heart;  and  with  it  was 
born  a  deadly  hatred  towards  my  long-dreaded  rival. 
I  went  from  her  presence  fiercely  determined  never 
to  see  her  again. 

For  several  days  I  underwent  the  dreadful  struggle 
between  passion  and  pride ;  and  I  began  to  fear  the 
former  would  conquer,  whereupon  I  concluded  to 
make  a  journey  to  the  Continent.  I  believe  my 
sainted  mother  from  on  high  gave  me  that  impulse  ; 
but  the  machinations  of  hell  prevailed. 

Who   started   the   idea  I  know   not;    but  in  the 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  43 

midst  of  my  preparations  for  departure,  1  was 
surprised  with  a  visit  from  a  man,  who  introduced 
himself  as  a  committee  of  one,  authorized  to  invite 
me,  in  the  name  of  the  town,  to  enter  the  lists  for  a 
strife  of  musical  powers,  the  proceeds  of  the  enter 
tainment  to  be  given  to  the  poor.  The  idea  pleased 
me  ;  but  wrho  was  to  be  my  competitor  ?  He  politely 

informed  me  that  Mr.  S had  consented  to  sustain 

that  relation  to  me.  The  hated  obstacle  to  my  hap 
piness  !  But  I  would  not  shrink.  I  was  confident  I 
could  overshadow  him.  I  signified  my  approval  of 
the  plan,  and  my  acceptance  of  the  invitation,  and 
consequently  deferred  my  setting  out  on  the  antici 
pated  journey  for  the  time  being. 

Still  the  struggle  within  me  continued.  It  took 
away  my  ambition,  and  impaired  my  voice.  To 
such  an  extent  did  it  thus  operate  on  me,  that  I  was 
at  the  point  of  withdrawing  myself  from  the  antici 
pated  musical  strife  altogether,  when  the  following 
singular  circumstance  transpired. 

Some  time  had  elapsed  since  my  last  interview 
with  Emily,  and  I  had  pretty  well  settled  into  the 
conviction  that  she  was  quite  indifferent  to  me,  and 
my  consuming  passion.  One  close  of  day,  as  I  was 


GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

sitting  by  the  window,  watching  the  fading  of 
the  glorious  autumnal  twilight,  a  little  boy  was 
announced.  I  called  him  to  my  side,  and  he  gave 
me  a  letter.  I  did  not  know  the  hand-writing  of  the 
superscription,  but  opened  it  with  trembling  haste, 
suspecting  who  the  author  was.  Glancing  at  the  end, 
I  saw  it  was  from  the  cruel  Emily.  Yet,  the  letter 
did  not  surprise  me,  as  did  the  contents  thereof.  I 
read  it  twice,  and  reflected  upon  it  some  time,  before 
I  could  rest  satisfied  it  was  not  all  a  dream.  The 
letter  was  as  follows ;  I  can  repeat  it  word  for  word— 


"  MY  VERT  DEAR  FRIEND  : — I  know  you  are  unhappy.  I  know 
you  are  offended  with  me.  If  you  knew  my  heart,  you  would 
believe  me  when  I  say,  you  are  angry  without  a  cause.  They 
tell  me  I  am  a  strange  being.  Perhaps  I  am.  They  tell  me  I  am 
incapable  of  the  passion  of  love.  Perhaps  I  am.  It  is  true,  I  have 
often  wished  I  could  have  been  so  made,  that  I  could  have  the 
friendship  without  the  love  of  men.  I  know  not  what  to  do.  I 
have  no  objections  to  marrying  ;  but  I  must  not  make  an  enemy  by 

it.    Mr.  S has  made  a  declaration  similar  t0  that  which  you 

have  twice  made.  What  shall  I  do?  I  prize  you  both  very 
highly.  1  cannot  marry  either  of  you  at  the  expense  of  the  other's 
friendship.  A  happy  suggestion  came  to  my  mind  to-day.  The 
papers  announce  that  you  are  to  test  your  musical  capacities  in  a 
friendly  strife.  The  one  who  succeeds  may  appropriate  me  as  his 
trophy.  Will  you  consent  to  it  ?  Can  you  consent  to  it,  and  remain 
friendly  if  disappointed?  I  know  well  that  you  both  lovo  me  very 


*  TKAVELLKKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.        45 

much.  I  hope  I  am  worthy  of  your  loves.  They  tell  me  disap 
pointed  lovers  are  the  worst  of  enemies.  Do  you  believe  it  ?  Can 
you,  if  the  issue  should  be  against  you,  set  an  example  to  the 
contrary  ?  I  am  unhappy.  I  wish  you  would  consent  to  this.  If 
you  triumph,  I  will  be  your  wife  ;  if  you  fail,  I  will  yet  be  your 

fpiend. 

EMILY. 

"P.  S.    I  have  sent  a  duplicate  of  this  to  Mr.  S." 

Oh,  how  ardently  did  I  consent  to  this  arrange 
ment!  I  knew  the  prize  would  be  mine,  and 
that  my  thorny  pilgrimage  would  be  crowned 
with  a  triumphant  entry  into  the  paradise  of  all 
my  earthly  hopes.  I  briefly  acquainted  Emily 
with  my  acquiescence  in  what  she  proposed ;  and 
set  about  preparing  myself  for  the  trial,  the  issue 
of  which  was  to  be  of  such  vital  importance  to  me. 

Great  excitement  prevailed  in  the  city.  From 
our  known  talents,  and  the  stimulus  the  occa 
sion  would  afford,  the  music-loving  confidently 
anticipated  a  glorious  treat. 

At  length,  the  day  closed  that  was  to  usher 
in  the  night  of — my  destiny.  "We  were  to  sing 
alternately,  occupying  three  hours  in  all;  the 
decision  to  be  passed  by  a  committee,  appointed 
for  that  purpose. 

At    the    time    announced    for    the    beginning,   I 


4:6  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

entered  the  crowded  hall;  and  as  the  cheers  of 
the  expectant  throng  died  away,  I  felt  as  though 
I  would  risk  my  life  upon  the  result,  so  confi 
dent  was  I  of  success.  My  competitor  was  already 
there;  and  as  I  turned  to  take  a  seat  upon  the 
stage,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  enchantress, 
far  back  in  the  dense  multitude.  That  inspired 
me  anew.  I  was  impatient  to  begin.  The  singing 
commenced, — my  rival  opening  the  performance. 
He  sang  a  beautiful  song,  about  the  coming  of 
some  happy  day,  when  heaven  would  descend  to 
earth,  and  all  should  feel  the  flow  of  praise  and 
adoration  welling  in  the  heart,  a  living,  eternal 
tide  of  tearless  beatitude ;  and  as  he  wandered 
among  the  mazes  of  the  intricate,  yet  rapturous 
melody,  I  could  not  help  but  be  conscious  of  a 
new  tone  in  his  young  voice — a  development 
which  I  had  not  looked  for,  and  which  annoyed 
me  very  much. 

I  saw  the  audience  sway  with  his  growing 
energy.  And  when  the  last  sweet  trill  melted  away 
like  an  embodied  sound,  floating  far  into  the  deep, 
limitless  sky,  and  I  saw  the  rapt  listeners  palo 
with  exquisite  pleasure,  my  heart  for  a  moment  sank 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  47 

within  me.  I  followed  him,  and  sang  as  I  had 
never  sung  before ;  and  though  I  was  enthusiasti 
cally  applauded,  I  could  plainly  see  that  I  failed 
to  produce  that  deep  effect  which  accompanied 
my  antagonist's  effort.  He  sang  again.  Again  he 
sat  down  without  ^  cheers,  so  rapt  was  the  audi 
ence.  My  second  attempt  was  more  successful ; 
but  I  had  what  seemed  an  Orpheus  to  contend 
with.  I  became  desperate.  Having  the  closing 
song,  I  chose  the  ballad  which  I  had  sung  at 
my  first  interview  with  Emily.  The  closing  verses 
spoke  the  real  feeling  of  my  intensely  agitated 
heart.  They  were  the  words  of  a  lover,  in  utter 
despair.  I  gave  entirely  away  to  the  tide  of  feeling, 
and  had  the  satisfaction  of  producing  that  voiceless 
effect,  which  I  desired.  But  it  was  a  poor  satis 
faction.  I  knew  very  well  that  my  rival  had  on 
the  whole,  triumphed;  and  I  passed  a  sleepless 
night,  harrowed  with  terrible  presentiments.  In 
the  morning,  I  was  waited  upon  by  a  delegate 
from  the  committee,  and  presented  with  a  sealed 
note,  without  remarks.  I  knew  its  contents ; 
I  needed  not  to  read  them.  I  seized  my  hat 
and  went  forth  beneath  the  smile  of  that  serene 


48  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

autumnal  morning,  cursing  my  God,  and  wishing 
I  could  die.  Life  from  a  spread  of  flowers,  and 
tuneful  groves,  bounded  with  a  horizon  of  warm 
beauty,  was  suddenly,  like  a  change  in  a  dream, 
transformed  into  a  bleak,  rock-bound,  fog-mantled 
dungeon,  without  hope. 

I  strolled  along  the  creek,  where  I  had  wan 
dered  the  spring  before,  venting  the  pent  agony 
of  my  spirit  in  groans  and  lamentations.  The 
first  gush  of  tearful  emotion  past,  the  sickening 
thought,  that  another  was  soon  to  enjoy  what  I 
had  so  lately  looked  upon  as  mine,  took  possession 
of  me,  and  with  it  that  shadow,  like  the  first  wave 
of  insanity.  Murder  was  in  my  heart.  If  it  had 
been  merely  in  regard  to  Emily,  that  he  had 
succeeded,  I  think  honor  would  have  deterred  me 
from  interfering;  but  he  had,  innocently,  to  be 
sure,  yet  that  I  did  not  consider,  cast  a  shade 
upon  my  reputation  as  a  singer.  It  stung  like 
a  viper,  and  I  believe  clenched  my  shadowy  pur 
pose.  "He  shall  not  enjoy  her,"  I  said  aloud, 
and  smote  the  air.  I  afterwards  thought,  as  my 
mind  coldly  settled  upon  a  plan,  "  I  shall  but 
die  of  my  most  cruel  disappointment.  If  justice 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  49 

find  me  out,  and  I  perish,  it  will  be  bnt  a  coveted 
period  to  a  life  surcharged  with  woes."  Miserable, 
short-sighted  youth !  how  little  didst  thon  count 
the  cost  of  thy  insane  purpose!  The  only  conso 
lation,  or  palliation  there  is,  is  that  I  did  not 
work  alone.  The  fiends  of  deepest  hell  were  my 
abettors. 

My  unsuspecting  victim  left  town  that  morning, 
BO  I  was  informed  on  my  return,  to  visit  his 
mother — he  was  a  widow's  son — a  short  distance 
away,  intending  to  return  in  the  evening.  That  1 
might  not  be  suspected,  I  made  a  show  of  illness 
to  two  or  three  of  my  young  friends,  and  went 
home  early  in  the  evening,  ostensibly  to  retire  to 
bed.  Arrived  at  home,  I  provided  myself  with 
an  excellent  pistol,  which  I  had  owned  for  some 
time,  and  was  perfectly  accustomed  to,  and  went 
forth  on  my  bloody  mission.  I  took  a  round-about 
way,  and  reached  the  road  by  which  I  knew  he 
must  return,  about  three  miles  from  the  city  limits. 
It  was  a  solitary  place.  The  road  skirted  a  huge 
precipitous  rock,  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
On  the  side  opposite  the  upper  rock,  was  another 
precipice  of  considerable  depth,  up  which  came 

3 


50  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

the  murmur  of  a  foaming  stream  below.  Here, 
in  the  shadow  of  the  rock,  I  posted  myself.  The 
night  was  clear  and  windy.  It  was  a  mournful 
wind,  and  might  have  prophesied  to  me,  had  I 
listened.  But  conscience  was  stifled  in  the  raging 
of  the  fiendish  passions  within.  I  heard  only  the 
sounds  of  hissing  scorn  from  the  world,  at  my  late 
failure,  and  the  sounds  of  amatory  endearment 
between  the  angel  captor  of  my  soul,  and  another. 
I  grated  my  teeth,  and  clenched  the  cold,  passive 
instrument  of  death.  I  heard  the  sound  of  horse's 
hoofs.  I  knew  that  S had  gone  out  on  horse 
back.  The  terrible  excitement  under  which  I 
labored,  sharpened  every  sense,  and  I  felt  that  it  was 
he.  I  threw  off  my  cloak,  and  placed  my  right 
elbow  upon  a  projection  of  the  rock,  that  my  aim 
might  be  sure.  My  position  was  hardly  assumed 
when  he  came  in  sight,  his  horse  galloping  leisurely. 
On  he  came,  so  near  that  I  clearly  recognized  him. 
The  horses  ears  were  pointed  towards  me.  "Now 
is  the  time,"  I  fiercely  whispered,  for  conscience 
pulled  hard  at  my  arm,  and — O,  my  God  !  I  tell 
it  not  willingly — discharged  the  deadly  weapon. 
The  horse  stopped  suddenly  still  ;  the  rider  bent 


TRAVELLEKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.        51 

low  over  its  neck,  clinging  by  the  mane.  The  shot 
was  fatal.  I  saw  him  fall  heavily  to  the  ground. 
The  spell  was  broken.  The  enormity  of  the  deed 
glared  at  me  like  a  wandering  spectre.  I  hur 
riedly  left  the  spot,  getting  home,  I  hardly  knew 
how.  I  entered  my  room,  and  locked  the  door,  and 
gat  down  to  reflect  upon  what  I  had  done.  But 
I  could  not  reflect.  I  could  not  remain  in  my 
chair ;  I  could  only  walk  the  floor  beating  my  breast 
in  the  agony  of  remorse.  As  I  walked,  I  felt  a 
death-like  chill  creeping  along  my  nerves.  I  looked 
at  my  hands ;  they  were  blue  and  stiff  like  a  corpse's. 
The  lamp,  and  then  the  windows  multipled ;  the 
walls  danced  and  whirled ;  the  floor  rose  beneath 
me ;  a  dark  rush,  like  diving  into  deep,  still 
water,  and  I  was  lost  to  consciousness  of  external 
things.  I  came  back  to  this  world  amidst  the 
smell  of  drugs,  and  the  close,  heavy  air  of  a 
sick-room.  I  had  been  very  ill  several  days, — 
delirious,  they  told  me,  raving  almost  continually. 
Had  I  disclosed  the  awful  secret?  How  could  I 
know.  I  told  my  nurse  that  I  had  had  a  painful 
dream  of  killing  a  man ;  and  asked  her  if  I  had 
done  injury  to  any  one.  She  assured  me  to  the  con- 


52  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

trary,  and  bade  me  be  quiet,  Being  stronger  the 
next  day,  my  father  carne  in  to  see  me  ;  gravely 
and  feelingly  he  told  me  of  the  diabolical  murder 
that  had  been  committed;  his  words  were  keen 
arrows  shot  unerringly  through  my  heart.  With 
remarkable  self-possession,  I  asked  him  some 
questions  concerning  it,  and  the  matter  passed  by. 

As  day  by  day  I  arose  from  my  prostration,  I  felt 
the  communion  with  my  past  life  severed,  and  the 
gory  deed  with  which  my  hands  were  imbrued 
coming  out  in  dark  relief,  a  haunting,  avenging 
shape. 

Many  weeks  crept  monotonously  away  before  I 
could  again  go  forth  into  the  sunshine  and  the  fields  ; 
and  when  I  did,  the  former  was  but  a  mockery,  and 
the  latter  white  with  the  mantle  of  winter.  Like 
my  heart  were  all  things  ;  but  unlike  that  they  had 
the  embryo  of  spring.  The  undying  worm  within 
fed  upon  my  returning  vitality,  and  my  recovery 
was  slow,  and  sometimes  doubtful.  It  was  agreed 
to,  among  my  physicians,  that  a  sojourn  in  some 
milder  climate  would  be  beneficial  to  me.  Accord 
ingly  I  renewed  my  preparations  for  a  journey  to 
the  Continent.  My  destination  was  Naples,  whereat 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  53 

in  due  time,  and  without  mecident,  I  arrived.  Here 
was  a  new  world  for  me.  Diverted  by  th'e  multitude 
of  new  and  interesting  objects  that  surrounded  me, 
I  rapidly  regained  my  health,  and  even  my  old 
buoyancy  of  spirits.  My  voice  returned ;  and 
intoxicated  with  the  applause  it  brought  me,  and 
being  surrounded  with  all  that  could  fascinate,  I 
gradually  lost  sight  of  the  demon  that  pursued  ^me. — 
I  forgot  that  I  was  a  murderer. 

I  remained  in  Naples  three  years.  At  last  its 
pleasures  became  stale  to  me,  and  I  longed  for 
home.  Having  no  other  guide  than  inclination,  I 
obeyed  it,  and  went  back  to  England.  My  father 
had  grown  old  very  much.  He  wept,  and  embraced 
me  ;  which  I  was  pained  to  behold,  for  in  him  it  was 
an  indication  of  dotage.  The  extraordinary  activity 
and  privation  of  his  early  life  had  prematurely 
exhausted  the  fountain,  and  now  grey,  bent,  and 
emaciated,  he  was  tottering  rapidly  to  the  grave. 
The  hope  of  meeting  and  embracing  me  once  more 
had  for  months  supported  him.  ISTow  that  his  wish 
was  gratified,  he  sank  soon,  and  was  no  more.  He 
died  blessing  his  only  son,  and  calling  upon  God  to 
grant  him  a  long  life  of  usefulness  and  happiness. 


54  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

I  was  an  orphan.  M/  new  sorrow  for  a  time 
hindered  the  return  of  remorse.  But  it  was  soon 
brought  back  with  redoubled  fury  by  learning  that 
an  innocent  man  had,  in  my  absence,  been  arrested 
and  executed  for  the  deed  of  which  I  alone  was 
guilty.  Oh !  the  tearless,  scathing  agony  that  burnt 
deep  into  my  writhing  heart !  Yet  there  was  no 
help.  •  Pardon  from  on  High  I  could  not  ask,  and 
men  knew  not  my  guilt,  knew  not  my  wretchedness, 
to  forgive  or  to  sympathize.  I  was  alone,  Oh !  how 
dismally  alone ! 

Why  it  was  I  have  never  been  able  to  explain ; 
but  true  it  is,  that  from  the  horrid  depth  into  which 
I  had  fallen  I  looked  to  Emily.  I  loved  her  then. 
Oh  !  1  had  never  ceased  to  love  her.  Could  she  be 
mine,  I  thought ;  and  could  we  together  go  to  some 
place  "remote  from  this,  where  things  around  could 
no  more  speak  to  my  heart  of  its  hellish  crime,  I 
would  yet  be  happy  and  willing  to  live. 

I  wrote  to  her:  yes,  this  bloody  right  hand  that 
had 'deprived  her  of  a  noble  and  devoted  husband 
wrote  to  her,  asking  her  to  be  mine.  Many  days  1 
feverishly  awaited  a  reply.-  It  came,  a  barbed 
naming  dart.  It  was  but  one  line,  firmly  written, 


TRAVELLEKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.        55 

"I  cannot  be  the  wife  of  a  murderer."  She  knew 
my  secret,  and  had  kept  it.  Could  I  have  loved  an 
angel  from  Heaven  ^more  ?  Could  I  have  feared 
more  the  arm  of  Omnipotent  Justice  ?  * 

Thus  was  the  last  hope  crushed,  the  last  tie  that 
bound  me  to  the  land  of  my  fathers  severed.  She 
who  had  been  the  innocent  cause  of  my  wasting, 
undying  misery,  who  had  once  shone  so  warmly 
into  my  soul,  had  withdrawn  herself  far  from  me 
for  ever.  She  was  to  be  thenceforth  as  a  star 
mirrored  upon  my  turbulent  soul,  a  cold,  scattered 
brightness. 

I  became  a' voluntary  exile.  I  went  to  Germany 
There  the  new  climate,  and  novel  circumstances,  like 
the  fascinations  of  Naples,  soothed  me  for  a  time, 
and  I  began  again  to  hope.  I  strove  to  forget 
entirely  my  past  life.  And  that  I  might  succeed, 
I  adopted  the  language  and  customs  of  the  country. 
For  five  years  I  neither  read,  spoke,  nor  thought  an 
English  word  voluntarily.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
I  had  made  such  progress  in  my  new  way  of  life, 
that  I  was  able  to  mingle  freely  in  society.  My 
talents  as  a  vocalist  shone  out  brilliantly  again  ;  and 
they,  coupled  with  my  great  wealth,  gave  me  high 


56  GKEEX    MOUNTAIN 

standing.  Still  the  bloody  deed  haunted  me,  coining 
out  more  bold  as  things  became  familiar  around  me. 
I  thought  again  of  wandering.  But  a  new  attraction 
appeared.  A  young  countess,'  a  widow,  beautiful, 
and  adorned  with  all  the  graces  that  art  could 
bestow,  and  of  a  disposition  mild  and  melancholy, 
tender  and  loving,  became  a  member  of  the  Society 
to  the  entertainment  of  which  I  often  contributed. 
She  too  was  a  singer ;  and  in  the  mazy  realm  of 
music  we  approached  one  another.  I  loved  her : 
not  as  I  first  loved — as  purely,  but  not  so  rapturously. 
My  soul  seized  upon  her  as  one  drowning  seizes  the 
tendered  object  of  salvation.  In  her  was  passion 
deep  as  the  sea.  Her  marriage  had  been  one  of 
convenience ;  and  she  had  never  loved  before.  She 
gave  herself  to  me,  and  we  were  married.  In  her 
loving  embrace  I  again  ceased  to  feel  for  a  fleecing 
period  that  I  was  a  murderer.  Life  again  opened 
before  me  a  shining  vista ;  and  I  could  look  back 
with  a  feeling  akin  to  defiance.  The  clear  moon  told 
a  new  tale  ;  the  mournful  winds  lost  their  burden, 
their  moaning  rehearsal  of  that  fatal  night,  and  took 
the  tone  which  had  charmed  my  spirit  in  childhood. 
Time  cast  oif  his  chains,  and  took  the  soft,  swift 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  57 

pinions  of  the  dove ;  weeks  became  as  days,  and 
days  as  hours.  I  was  happy ;  yet  not  completely 
happy.  There  was  a  dread,  like  the  heavy  sound  of 
a  distant  storm  at  sea, — deep,  underlying  all — a 
dread  of  the  future. 

The  anniversary  of  our  nuptials  was  made  glad 
with  the  birth  of  a  child — a  daughter.  This  circum 
stance  weaned  me  yet  more  from  my  past  life, — 
dimmed  yet  more  the  hideous  remembrance. 

Another  year  bore  me  smoothly  and  rapidly  on. 
My  little  girl,  now  a  sweet  blue-eyed  prattler, 
could  call  me  father.  Father !  "Why  did  it  so  affect 
me?  I  well  remember  the  thrill  of  agony  that 
sacred  word  first  from  her  smiling  lips  sent  through 
my  soul.  I  withdrew  the  hand  which  would  have 
patted  her  ruddy  cheek — that  hand  was  stained  with 
a  brother's  blood  !  I  gasped  and  trembled  with  the 
depth  of  my  emotion ;  and  the  little  cherub  ran 
frightened  from  me. 

But  it  was  not  long  so.  It  was  but  a  passing  throe 
of  dormant  conscience. 

Another  year  was  added  to  my  illusive  dream. 

One  day  my  little  treasure  climbed  to  my  knee,  and 
told  me  her  mother  was  sick.  I  started  as  one  struck 

3* 


58  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

by  the  assassin's  blade.  Directly  a  domestic  came  in 
and  confirmed  the  artless  utterance  of  the  little 
lisper.  In  a  moment  I  was  at  her  side.  She  was 
really  very  ill.  She  had  been  suddenly  attacked 
with  a  malignant  and  fatal  epidemic  with  which  the 
city  was  then  being  scourged,  and  from  a  knowledge 
of  her  constitution  I  knew  she  must  die.  I  sent  for 
a  physician,  who  gravely  confirmed  my  awful  convic 
tion — >awful !  for  what  had  she  not  been  to  me  ?  to 
\vhat  was  I  now  to  awake  ?  "  Can  you  not  save 
her?"  I  wailed  beseechingly.  The  kind  and  sympa 
thizing  physician  pointed  with  tears  to  the  mark  of 
death.  There  was  no  hope.  I  felt  its  feeble  glimmer 
perish  within  me,  and  overwhelmed  I  sank  in  a  long, 
deep  swoon. 

As  1  came  out  of  the  rayless  void,  a  grim  spirit 
seemed  to  whisper  in  my  ear,  "  The  murderer  has 
dreamed  his  dream  of  bliss.  Henceforth,  shall  be 
toiling  among  lacerating  rocks,  and  blinding  light 
nings,  until  the  great  gulf  of  destruction  swallow  him 
up  for  ever!"  I  resisted  the  kind  eiforts  that  would 
restore  me  to  this  world,  and  longed  to  die.  Life 

'  O 

was  worse  than  worthless  to  me.  I  stood  as  one 
might  stand  upon  the  skirts  of  a  limitless  desert, 


TRAVELLERS1  ENTERTAINMENT.        59 


while  vengeful  furies  urged  on  behind  to  lash  him 
with  their  serpent  scourges  forward  for  ever  upon 
the  arid  waste.  When  they  told  me  she  was  dead, 
my  mind  refused  the  guidance  of  my  will,  and  I 
howled  like  a  frightened  maniac. 

In  a  few  hours  nature  so  far  prevailed  over  the 
tortures  of  my  spirit,  that  I  was  sufficiently  recovered 
to  visit  the  chamber  of  death. 

I  stood  by  her  dead  body,  and  took  up  my  child. 
It  was  then  I  thought  of  my  own  childhood ;  of  the 
story  of  my  birth,  and  what  the  sailor  said;  of  the 
tiger,  and  cursed  the  ball  that  saved  my  life ;  of 
how  my  mother  died,  and  my  father  wept,  pressing 
me  to  his  heavy  heart;  and  as  my  mind  dwelt 
tenderly  on  that,  tears  came  to  my  burning  eyes,  and 
I  wept  long  and  freely. 

A  few  dismal  days  passed  dimly  on,  and  she  was 
buried.  When  the  always  sad — to  me  trebly — 
mournful  ceremony  was  over,  I  returned  to  my 
desolated  home  firmly  resolved  upon  self-destruction. 
But  when  I  saw  my  child,  and  felt  the  beams  of  her 
Bunny  soul,,  my  will  swerved,  and  I  put  away  for  the 
time  the  dark  resolve.  But  that  frail  support  to  my 
sinking  spirit  was  not  spared  me  long.  Ere  the  grass 


60  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

grew  upon  the  grave  of  the  mother,  the   lonely — 
wandering  little  innocent  was  laid  by  her  side. 

Again  utterly  alone,  I  would  have  persevered  in  my 
former  purpose.  But  I  had  grown  thoughtful,  and 
shrank  from  passing  that  bourn  whence  there  can  be 
no  return.  I  sought  relief  from  intoxicating  drinks. 
I  drank  deeply.  From  drinking  I  fell  to  gambling, 
and  my  wealth  soon  melted  away,  leaving  me  in  a 
few  months  penniless.  My  position  in  society  lost, 
I  mingled  with  outcasts  the  most  forlorn  of  all,  and 
walked  familiarly  Avith  villains,  yet  not  myself  a 
villain.  No ;  the  one  great  crime  that  had  thrust  me 
into  this  terrible  abyss,  had  been  the  rash  deed  of 
unthinking  youth.  I  could  not  commit  another. 
The  awful  remembrance  debarred  me. 

At  first  the  stimulating  draught  had  quieted  me  ; 
but  now  it  ceased  to  befriend.  The  avenging  shape 
kept  pace  with  every  pulsation  of  my  weary  heart, 
stabbing  without  mercy.  It  mingled  with  the 
ravings  of  my  drunkenness,  and  glared  hotly  upon 
me  in  the  silent  hours  of  solitude. 

Lower,  and  lower  I  sank,  until  all  men  spurned 
me,  and  I  went  aside  like  a  wounded  brute  to  die. 
I  lay  in  an  open  hovel.  It  was  a  cold  winter  night.  ] 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  61 

lay  upon  the  bare,  frozen  earth,  and  waved  m y  hand 
in  the  keen  air,  and  blessed  it  for  the  numbing  frosts 
it  bore- to  freeze  my  blood,  so  earnest  was  my  longing 
for  death — for  a  period  to  my  innumerable  and  hope 
less  woes.  As  I  waved  it  there  a  warm  hand  grasped 
it,  and  I  was  addressed  in  English.  So  long  had  I 
avoided  that  language,  it  sounded  like  a  foreign 
tongue  to  me.  In  my  wildness  I  thought  that  I  was 
dead,  and  that  it  was  my  father  who  addressed  me. 
The  voice  told  me  to  get  up.  I  could  not  obey. 
Two  men  then  carefully  lifted  and  bore  me  to  a 
carriage,  and  I  was  conveyed  to  a  warm  room,  where 
cordials  were  administered  to  me,  and  I  fell  into  a 
comfortable  slumber,  from  which,  after  a  few  hours, 
I  awoke  considerably  renewed.  The  presence  of 
Englishmen  was  like  introducing  me  to  the  home  of 
my  youth,  and — strange  aberration — it  sent  a  flush  of 
joy  through  my  soul. 

Directly  I  was  informed  of  the  circumstances 
which  had  led  to  my  rescue. 

A  bachelor  uncle  of  mine,  on  the  maternal  side, 
had  lately  died,  leaving  by  will  a  small  annuity  to 
me.  Inquiry  had  been  made  concerning  my  where 
abouts  ;  and  after  diligent  search  I  had  been  traced 


62  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

to  Germany.  There  they  found  me  as  I  have 
described.  Whence  the  scrupulous  honesty  which 
had  actuated  the  apparently  disinterested  adminis 
trators,  I  never  troubled  myself  much  to  discover. 
Perhaps,  my  mother  from  paradise  accompanied 
them.  I  have  often  thought  so.  Yet,  perhaps,  it  is 
only  superstition.  But  I  do  love  to  think  of  my 
mother,  my  father,  my  wife,  my  child,  as  looking 
down  kindly  and  lovingly  from  their  beatitude,  upon 
the  wretched  wanderer. 

Under  the  kind  administerings  of  my  new  friends, 
I  soon  recovered  my  usual  strength,  and  with  it,  a 
decided  change  came  over  me,  which  was  not 
altogether  owing  to  my  altered  situation  and  return 
ing  health.  I  had  a  kind  of  half  consciousness 
that  I  had  in  part  atoned  for  my  crime  and  was 
forgiven.  It  gave  me  cheerfulness  for  a  time,  and  I 
readily  consented  to  return  to  England. 

Accordingly,  in  company  with  my  two  friends,  I 
embarked  for  London.  As  I  approached  the  well- 
remembered  shores,  my  gloom  returned.  I  strove  to 
resist  it  in  vain.  It  increased  upon  me  as  I  walked 
along  the  familiar  streets.  The  places  hallowed  in 
my  recollection  by  the  innocence  of  uiy  childhood. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  63 

and  youth  seemed  to  look  with  sadness  upon  me.  I 
did  not  dare  to  renew  my  old  social  relations,  and 
cared  not  to  form  new  ones.  The  two  friends  who 
had  accompanied  me  from  Germany,  separated  from 
me  soon,  and  went  away  to  their  homes.  I  sup 
ported  my  increasing  loneliness  for  a  while,  loth  to 
venture  again  upon  distant  wanderings ;  but  at  last 
became  -  convinced  that  no  other  course  would  save 
me  from  intolerable  wretchedness.  Having  come 
into  full  possession  of  the  annuity,  I  took  passage  for 
this  country,  where  I  arrived  a  little  upwards  of  two 
years  since.  I  seek  the  turmoil  of  large  cities  to 
divert  the  current  that  ever  rushes  darkly  up  to 
overwhelm  me.  Yet,  sometimes  a  tender  melan 
choly,  soothing  like  the  singing  voices  of  angels — 
Oh !  I  know  it  is  from  those  who  love  me — takes 
possession  of  me,  and  then  I  seek  such  wilds  as  these. 
This  is  my  story,  gentlemen.  The  pain  it  has 
gwen  me  to  relate  it,  and  which  I  have  tried  in  vain 
to  avoid  manifesting,  may  be  to  you  a  pledge  of  its 
truth.  Alas !  I  would  it  were  but  idle  fiction. 


64:  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 


CHAPTER  1U. 

WHEN  the  narrator  had  ceased  speaking,  he 
covered  his  withered  face  with  his  withered  hands, 
breathing  heavily.  The  rest  of  us  were  all  deeply 
moved,  some  shedding  tears,  the  jolly-looking  bald- 
headed  man  quite  profusely,  being  obliged  to  use  his 
pocket-handkerchief.  For  several  minutes,  no  one 
seemed  disposed  to  interrupt  the  tide  of  sympathetic 
sadness  which  prevailed.  At  last  the  president 
remarked  abruptly,  smiting  his  thigh — "  Gentlemen, 
I  don't  know  how  you  view  it,  but  I  say  this  is  rather 
too  serious.  It  chokes  me,  I  vow  !  I've  heard  hard 
stories  in  my  day,  stories  that  made  rough-skinned 
juries  cry ;  but  I'm  inclined  to  think  this  is  a  little 
the  hardest  yet.  I  propose  the  card  be  turned. 
Let's  try  again.  Let's  see,"  looking  around,  "who  is 
to  tell  the  next  one  ?  I  mo — •  but  stop,  I  forgot,  I'm 
president.  Let  some  one  motion  to  the  desired 
effect." 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  65 

"I  motion,"  said  the  Quaker,  "that  the  president 
himself  favor  us  with  the  next  effort." 

"That's  taking  hold  of  the  bridle-rein,  my  dear 
sir,"  responded  that  functionary.  "  I  see  sir,  you 
haven't  forgot  our  dispute  an  hour  or  two  since.  You 
want  to  be  revenged,  eh  ?" 

"  I  second  the  motion,"  put  in  one  of  the  farmer- 
like  looking*  men,  excited. 

"  Moved  and  seconded,  then.  I  see  it  is  inevitable 
—but,  by-the-by,  I  have  doubts  of  the  regularity  of 
this  proceeding;  at  all  events  you  should  allow  a 
fellow  chance  to  stump  it  a  little,  particularly  when 
he  wants  to  be  defeated." 

"  Go  on  sir,"  playfully  commanded  the  Quaker. 
"  Do  your  duty." 

The  motion  was  put,  and  unanimously  carried. 
Whereupon  the  president  arose,  and  with  a  loud 
voice  demanded  if  any  one  would  volunteer  to  treat 
the  company  to  cigars. 

"  Cheerfully "  said  I,  also  rising,  "  I  am  yet 
indebted  to  you  all."  The  little  dry  man  remained 
apparently  unconscious  of  what  was  going  on ;  but 
the  rest  silently  acquiesced,  and  we  were  soon  seated 
again,  industriously  smoking. 


66  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

"  You  still  insist,  do  you  ?"  asked  the  president  of 
the  Quaker. 

"Indeed  I  do.  Have  you  ever  had  a  doubt 
that  the  majority  can  rule  in  a  Republican  govern 
ment  ?" 

"  "Well,  then,  prepare.  It  may  take  me  some 
time  ;  and  as  its  getting  late,  I  want  all  to  assume  a 
position  in  which  you  may  fall  asleep  without  inter 
rupting  the  thread  of  my  narrative,  if  sleep  should 
overtake  you,  you  understand." 

In  order  to  humor  the  joke,  and  not  knowing 
how  much  unlike  a  joke  it  might  turn  out  to  be, 
each  one  adjusted  himself  in  the  most  comfortable 
position  allowed  by  circumstances,  and,  with  eyes 
expectant,  beheld  the  upright  president,  who,  seeing 
the  coast  was  clear,  commenced  as  follows: — 

Our  unfortunate  friend  here,  has  given  us  a 
general  autobiography.  To  entertain  us,  he  has 
drawn  from  his  own  experience.  For  me  to  follow 
him  with  an  empty  bar-room  yarn,  would  be  unge 
nerous  to  him,  and  would  probably  grate  harshly 
upon  your  ears.  I  will  not  do  it.  I,  too,  will 
tell  you  of  what  I  have  both  seen  and  heard.  Yet 
less  generous  than  our  unhappy  friend,  I  shall 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  67 

confine  my  narration  to  six  or  seven  years  of 
my  life.  These  years,  though  usually  that  most 
uninteresting  lapse  between  boyhood  and  manhood, 
have  been  to  me  by  far  the  most  eventful  which 
I  have  lived.  Sadly  eventful,  alas !  By  the  by,  I 
complained  of  the  seriousness  of  the  story  we  have 
just  heard.  If  I  enter  upon  this  rehearsal,  I  don't 
know  that  I  shall  better  the  matter ;  perhaps  you 
do  not  feel  as  I  did  in  regard  to  tl^at  story.  I  will 
take  it  for  granted,  that  you  do  not,  without 
asking  you,  and  go  on,  having  started,  though  I 
do  wish  I  had  something  more  cheerful  to  relate. 
But  to  the  tale,  or  we  shall  never  reach  the  end. 

I  was  a  'hard  boy,  as  you  may  guess  from  my 
make,  perverse  and  boisterous.  My  father  was  a 
farmer,  and  my  mother  a  farmeress,  both  of  them 
contented  to  plough,  sow,  reap,  and  bring  forth. 
And  being  industrious,  they  ploughed  much,  sowed 
much,  and  being  under  the  immediate  smile  of 
Providence,  they  reaped  abundant  harvests,  ard 
brought  forth  many.  I  was  the  oldest  of  the  flock — 
and  a  flock  it  was,  except  myself,  who  only  wore 
the  outer  vestments.  .  I  budded  and  expanded 
under  the  fiery  wrath  and  indignation  of  m^/ 


68  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

father,  who,  being  reserved  and  taciturn,  and  also 
very  methodic,  found  me  ever  a  buffeting  thorn. 
I  increased  lustily,  however,  under  the  gleaming 
orbs,  and  sharp  pruning  tongue,  and  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  embraced  the  notion  that  I  was  a  man. 
Concerning  this,  my  father  and  I  fell  out  more  malig 
nantly  than  ever.  But  I  cherished  my  new-blown 
dignity,  and  would  not  yield.  The  up-shot  of  it 

was,  I  clandestinely  left  the  parental  roof.     It  was  a 

• 
bad  move,  and  I  found  it  out  very  soon.     Having 

never  been  away  from  home  over  night,  and 
scarcely  over  a  meal  before,  I  had  not  imbibed 
the  idea  of  providing  for  the  future ;  and  dis 
covered  the  very  first  day,  that  my  .capital  was 
altogether  inadequate  to  the  investment.  The  first 
twenty-four  hours  consumed  my  money,  and  1 
was  thrown  upon  my  spontaneous  resources,  which 
did  not  prove  very  fruitful.  However,  with  a  piece 
of  bread  begged  here,  and  a  bowl  of  milk  begged 
there,  I  managed  to  keep  my  stomach  tolerably 
quiet,  and  my  feet  comparatively  active,  until  I  had 
put  a  hundred  miles  between  me  and  my  old 
home.  I  landed,  and  stranded,  the  tenth  morning 
from  launching — speaking  after  the  manner  of  the 


TKAVELJ.EKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  69 

f 

sea — in  the  city  of  New  York.  Here  my  manhood 
suffered  great  depreciation.  I  became  immediately 
so  completely  merged  and  submerged,  that  I  lost 
my  identity, — so  much  so,  that  a  little  hocus-pocus 
would  have  convinced  me  that  I  had  no  existence 
at  all,  except  in  my  eyes.  As  night  came  on, 
I  began  to  get  hungry.  As  soon  as  I  began  to 
think  of  food,  I  lost  interest  in  everything  else, 
and  directed  every  sense  and  energy  to  finding 
some ;  and  no  wonder.  I  had  tasted  of  nothing  but 
my  own  spittle,  and  some  pine  splinters,  since  the 
night  before.  While  bent  vigorously  upon  the 
one  thing  needful,  to  me  just  then,  I  became 
infested  with  an  exceedingly  painful  doubt.  How 
was  I  to  obtain  possession  of  food,  when  I  should 
have  found  it  ?  I  had  not  one  cent,  and  my  clothes 
.were  too  dirty  to  offer  in  exchange.  But  neither 
did  the  doubt,  nor  the  speculations  that  followed 
it,  at  all  appease  my  appetite ;  and  in  view  of  the 
imperative  necessity,  I  finally  concluded  that  if 
from  what  I  knew  the  case  was  doubtful,  there 
was  a  great  deal  I  did  not  know,  and  perhaps 
amongst  that  might  be  found  means  of  escape  from 
the  present  difficulty.  Comforted,  I  wandered  on. 


70  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

At  length,  fearing  that  I  should  not  be  able  even 
to  find  food  by  my  own  unaided  efforts,  I  accosted 
a  ragged,  dirty  urchin  in  size  about  four  years  old. 
"  Bub,"  said  I  patronizingly,  "  can  you  tell  me  where 
I  can  get  something  to  eat?" 

"Bub!"  he  responded,  swelling  like  a  little  toad. 
"  Do  you  go  to  h — 1,  or  I'll  Tyub  ye,"  looking  fiercely 
and  steadily  up  into  my  face.  I  slowly  inserted  my 
hands  in  my  pantaloons  pockets,  and  wonderingly 
returned  his  gaze. 

"  It's  something  you  want  to  eat,  heh  ?"  he  contin 
ued.  "  Look  straight  across  this  here  street,  will  ye  ?" 

I  looked. 

"  Do  you  see  tnat  are  sign,  there  ?" 

I  had  seen  it  before  he  asked  me.  It  read  in  fla 
ming  red  letters,  in  semi-circle,  high  on  a  post,  "  City 
Eating  House."  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  still  it  is  a 
fact,  that,  so  slim  was  my  worldly  experience,  and 
particularly  the  city  part  thereof,  I  interpreted  that 
sign  to  signify  an  establishment  kept  and  provided  by 
the  city  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  could  not  pay. 
Fully  possessed  with  this  idea,  I  crossed  the  street, 
and  boldly  entering,  made  known  my  voracious  want 

"  Of  course,  sir ;  with  all  dispatch,  sir.     Sit  down, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.        71 

sir — at  this  table,  sir.  Any  preference  in  dishes, 
sir  ?" 

Good  Lord  !  such  politeness !  It  astounded  me. 
I  thought  I  had  landed.in  paradise,  surely.  I  thanked 
the  genteel  individual  with  considerable  feeling,  and 
allowed  him  to  conduct  me  to  a  small  round  table,  in 
a  curtained  recess,  for  the  moment  forgetting  why  I 
was  there. 

"  Any  preference  in  dishes  ?"  repeated  the  obsequi 
ous  gentleman. 

I  had  none.  In  a  few  minutes  a  most  tempting 
display  covered  the  table,  which  I  proceeded  to  de 
molish — not  the  table,  but  the  fixins — with  inexpres 
sible  relish.  I  ate  long  and  fiercely  ;  and  came  out, 
at  last,  appeased,  with  my  face  very  red  and  greasy. 
I  walked  up  and  down  the  long  room,  wondering  at 
the  benevolence  of  those  who  kept  so  splendid  an  es 
tablishment  for  the  indigent. 

After  completing  my  survey,  I  very  properly 
thought  about  finding  a  place  to  sleep.  I  could  see 
no  chance  for  it  there,  and  I  turned  my  steps  towards 
the  door.  Just  as  I  reached  it  I  was  touched  gently 
on  the  shoulder,  and  kad  my  attention  directed  to  a 
counter,  with  a  man  behind  it,  in  a  distant  corner  of 


72  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

the  room.  The  man  behind  the  counter  was  beck 
oning  to  me ;  and  with  a  sense  of  doing  some  one 
a  service,  I  went  towards  him.  I  approached  and 
leaned  against  the  counter. 

"  Two  shillings,  sir,"  said  he,  without  looking  at  me. 

I  thought  he  must  be  addressing  some  one  else,  and 
looked  around  to  see  who  it  was. 

• 

"  Two  shillings,  sir,"  he  said  again,  looking  at  me. 

"Me  ?"  I  asked  ;  "I  haven't  got  any  money." 

"  No  money  ?  You  young  devil,  you  ;  do  you  sup 
pose  you  are  to  eat  your  supper  at  our  expense? 
"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  you  infernal  scapegrace ! 
Call  the  policeman,  Jim." 

Now  I  did  not  know  positively  what  ;  policeman' 
meant ;  but  guessed.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  do  any 
harm,  sir ;  indeed  I  did  not,"  I  commenced,  beseech 
ingly. 

"  ISTo  words,  you  young  scamp.  No  getting  up  a 
booboo,  here." 

Jim  left  ostensibly  for  a  policeman,  and  I  was  left 
in  a  dismal  fix,  that's  certain.  While  in  the  midst 
of  this  dilemma — both  horns  of  which,  as  it  were, 
thrust  under  my  fifth  ribs — an  old  sailor  slid  up  to 
the  counter,  and  wiping  his  greasy  lips  on  his  jacket- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  73 

sleeve,  demanded  "  the  bearing  of  that  are  reckoning 
o'  yourn."  While  the  score  was  being  reckoned,  he 
looked  up,  then  around  a  great  way  off,  as  though 
searching  for  some  distant  object,  then  down,  and  his 
eyes  settled  on  me. 

"  What's  in  the  wind,  lad,"  said  he,  compassion 
ately  ;  "  aground  ?" 

I  chokingly  told  him  I  was  out  of  money,  and  they 
were  going  to  put  me  in  jail. 

"  From  the  country,  I  reckon.  Great  way  from 
port,  perhaps  ?" 

I  answered  meekly,  "  Yes." 

He  looked  up,  and  then  away  to  a  great  distance, 
again.  "  Say,  you  there,  behind  there,  reckon  in  this 
lad's  damage,"  at  the  same  time  throwing  a  gold 
coin  upon  the  counter.  The  change  was  counted  out, 
and  the  old  sailor,  grabbing  up  one  handful  and  put 
ting  it  in  his  own  pocket,  drew  off  the  remainder  into 
the  other  hand,  and  opening  one  of  my  trowsers  pock 
ets,  shook  it  in  there. 

"  Now,  lad,  bear  up  alongside,  and  we'll  go  aboard." 

The  phraseology  was  so  entirely  new,  and  so  radi 
cally  differed  from  what  I  was  accustomed  to  hearing, 
that  it  conveyed  no  definite  idea  to  my  understanding, 

4 


74  GKKF.N    MOUNTAIN 

which  fact  must  have  been  manifested  by  my  conn 
tenance,  for  I  said  nothing. 

"Poor  fellow  !"  he  continued.  "You  don't  under 
stand.  I  mean,  will  ye  go  with  me?"  His  manner 
had  inspired  me  with  confidence  in  him,  and  thinking 
he  might  assist  me  in  getting  a  place  to  sleep,  I  fol 
lowed  him.  It  was  quite  dark,  and  as  we  went  along 
he  took  hold  of  my  hand.  Assured  by  his  kindness, 
JL  ventured  to  ask  him  where  he  was  going. 

"  On  board  for  the  night.  Ye  must  go  with  me, 
and  I'll  give  ye  a  hammock." 

I  informed  him  I  had  been  to  supper. 

"  Hammock,  hammock,  lad  ;  a  place  to  sleep.  Bless 
vou  !  I  knowed  ye  had  been  to  supper.  That  was  what 
•he.  dog  behind  there  was  snarling  about,  wasn't 
it." 

Depressed  with  shame  at  my  ignorance,  I  made  no 
further  remarks,  and  we  soon  came  to  the  wharf. 

"  Keep  a  steady  lookout  as  ye  climb  this  here,"  cau 
tioned  my  guide,  as  we  walked  up  a  narrow  plank, 
leading  to  the  midships  of  a  huge  merchant  vessel, 
darkly  looming  against  the  sky.  I  took  his  caution 
to  heart,  and  carefully  ascending,  found  myself  for 
the  first  time  in  a  ship.  My  first  general  impression 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  75 

was  of  being  in  a  grocery  of  indefinite  extent — 
such  piles  of  boxes,  and  barrels,  and  sacks ;  such  a 
profusion  of  what  seemed  to  me  tar,  molasses,  and 
flour  on  the  floor  ;  such  a  redolence  of  indistinguish 
able  smells  ; — I  was  quite  bewildered  and  impressed 
with  awe.  I  followed  the  sailor  passively,  who  con 
ducted  me  along  a  winding  way,  walled  narrowly  in 
with  innumerable  boxes  and  sacks,  to  a  low  apart 
ment  which  he  introduced  to  me  as  the  "  steerage." 
Here  I  had  ocular  demonstration  of  what  a  hammock 
was  ;  and  blushing  at  the  recollection  of  my  igno 
rance,  I  submitted  to  the  kind  direction  of  my  pro 
tector,  and  was  soon  asleep. 

I  was  aroused  at  break  of  day  by  the  old  sailor — 
whom  I  shall  call  Senk,  for  that  was  the  name  he 
went  by — who,  when  he  perceived  I  was  fully  awake, 
proceeded  to  admonish  me  as  to  what  my  future  con 
duct  must  be — first,  however,  ascertaining  my  precise 
relations  to  existing  circumstances  and  to  the  world 
at  large. 

"Ye  must  say  'sir'  to  everybody  that  speaks  to 
ye.  Be  most  devilish  civil,  and  out  o'  the  way.  The 
officers  are  a  most  damned  impudent  set.  They'd 
kick  ye  overboard  in  a  minute  if  they'd  happen  to 


76  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

stumble  or  slip,  and  you'd  laugh  the  least  bit  or 
snicker.  And  be  sure  ye  always  be  very  particu 
lar  to  say  '  Captain  Smith '  to  the  man  ye  hear  me 
call  so.  Now  mind  that;  it's  very  important.  I  waut 
you  to  stay  on  board,  and  be  a  sailor.  You  can't  do 
better.  I  brought  a  fellow  on  here  five  years  ago, 
and  there  ain't  a  better  sailor  ever  climbed  the  rigg 
ing.  "Wouldn't  ye  like  to  be  a  sailor,  lad,  eh  ?"  he 
concluded,  getting  up  a  little  sham  enthusiasm  for  the 
occasion. 

I  had  not  left  home  with  the  intention  of  going  to 
sea.  But  the  experience  of  the  previous  night  had 
disgusted  me  with  the  city,  and  between  my  disgust 
and  a  certain  vague  inclination  to  visit  distant  lands 
I  came  suddenly  and  decidedly  to  the  conclusion  that 
I  would  be  a  sailor.  Senk,  who  had  scrutinized  my 
countenance  in  the  most  lively  manner  during  the 
short  cogitation  that  had  passed  within  me,  saw  in 
stantly  my  decision,  and  without  waiting  for  me  to 
epeak,  burst  forth  rapturously — 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir.  I  knowed  you'd  do  it.  Now  come 
along  wi'  me  on  the  hurrican  deck,  and  mind  ye  do 
jest  as  I  tole  ye." 

I  submitted  to  his  leading,  and  we  went  up  on  deck. 


TKAVKLLKRS'    KNTERTAINMEOT.  77 

As  we  were  walking  slowly  along,  a  little  bare  grey 
head  with  spectacles,  popped  up  from  a  square  hole 
about  three  steps  off  from  us. 

"On  board  eh?"  it  said,  adding  a  pair  of  broad 
shoulders  to  it. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,  Captain  Smith,"  promptly  responded 
Senk.  "  Been  on  over  night." 

"  "Well,  that's  strange.  Got  kicked  out  for  disor 
derly  conduct  somewhere,  I  suppose,  and  couldn't 
stay  ashore.  Thank  God !  we're  to  leave  to  morrow.'' 

While  giving  utterance  to  these  amiable  remarks, 
the  head  and  shoulders,  which  Senk  had  called  "  Cap 
tain  Smith,"  built  themselves  up  heavily,  and  revealed 
a  quite  unsymmetrical  foundation,  based  with  a  pair 
of  remarkably  large  feet.  Fairly  established  on 
deck,  he  directly  made  a  discovery. 

"  "What  have  you  got  here,  you  old  hull  ?" 

"  A  young  lad  in  trouble,  that  1  picked  up  ashore 
last  night,"  commenced  Senk. 

"  I'll  warrant.  You  are  always  up  to  such  foolery. 
Mighty  benevolent  at  others'  expense !  What  do  you 
expect  to  do  here,  young  man?"  he  continued,  ad 
dressing  me,  and  evidently  meaning  no  respect  by  the 
title. 


78  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

"  I  don't  know,  sir — C-Captain  Smith,  ah  !"  I 
emitted,  borne  down  with  awe. 

Though  naturally  bold,  and  inconsiderate,  either  of 
times  or  circumstances,  when  at  home  among  the 
well-known  cows,  horses,  and  school-boys,  I  had  seen 
so  much  in  the  short  interval  since  leaving  the  paren 
tal  roof  which  demonstrated  my  own  weakness,  that 
I  had  not  only  lost  every  vestige  of  my  supposed 
manhood,  but  had,  as  it  were,  been  born  again,  and 
was  scarcely  advanced  beyond  infancy.  My  con 
fusion  was  very  great,  which  I  suppose  somewhat 
nattered  the  august  Captain  Smith,  who  went  on  to 
say,  in  a  milder  tone,  after  a  few  moments'  reflection, 
"  Do  you  want  to  go  to  sea  ?" 

Raising  my  eyes  to  the  feet  of  the  awful  man,  I 
replied  "  Yes,"  forgetting  to  add  the  title  until  he  com 
menced  speaking  again,  which  caused  an  additional 
dash  of  confusion,  so  completely  bewildering  me  that 
I  lost  all  he  said,  until  he  shifted  his  remarks  to  Senk. 

"  Take  him  below,  Senk,  and  tell  the  steward  I 
sent  him." 

Glad  to  get  from  the  oppressive  presence,  I  follow 
ed  Senk  with  alacrity. 

I  found  the  steward,  to  whom  Senk  ceremoniously 


iis'   IJSTKUTAIXMKNT.  79 

presented  me,  a  large,  heavy-looking  gentleman  of 
color.  He  had  a  mild,  placid  expression  all  over  him, 
that  made  me  feel  quite  at  home.  "We  directly  fell 
into  conversation,  and  became  rapidly  acquainted. 
He  patiently  pointed  out  my  duties,  and  on  my  per 
forming  one  of  them  successfully,  he  promptly  dub 
bed  me  "  Cabin  Boy,"  nicknaming  me  Phil,  and  I 
swore  allegiance  to  him,  and  through  him  to  the  ship  ; 
and  from  that  hour  forth  reckoned  myself  a  sailor. 

The  next  day,  in  fulfillment  of  the  gratefully  ex 
pressed  prediction  of  Captain  Smith,  we  set  sail. 
The  vessel  was  bound  for  Quilimane,  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  Africa,  and  was  heavily  laden.  The  first 
three  weeks  after  leaving  the  last  American  port  were 
very  monotonous.  An  annoying  alternation  of  spas 
modic  \vinds  and  dead  calms  rendered  our  progress 
slow  and  uncertain.  We  had  been  out  of  sight  of 
land  about  ten  days,  the  great  sea  alone  all  around  us, 
the  sun  rising  and  setting  in  it,  the  scattered  clouds 
coming  out  of  and  disappearing  in  it, — when  one 
morning  at  break  of  day  those  of  us  who  were  sleep 
ing  were  startled  from  our  slumbers  by  the  heavy  roll 
of  distant  thunder.  I  jumped  from  my  hammock,  and 
went  on  deck.  The  whole  aspect  of  things  was 


80  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

changed.  The  solemn  ocean  had  assumed  a  new,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  ominous  hue,  and  appeared  smaller,  like, 
I  could  not  help  thinking,  a  monstrous  serpent  con 
tracted  for  a  spring.  In  the  western  sky  were  new 
clouds,  some  of  them  thick  and  almost  black,  others 
tinged  with  the  prismatic  hues  of  a  summer  sunrise, 
and  the  clear  blue  sky  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  The 
atmosphere,  too,  was  changed.  It  was  heavy ;  and 
the  scream  of  a  sea-bird — whence  no  one  could  tell 
— came  painfully  distinct  to  the  ear. 

About  sun  an  hour  high,  Captain  Smith  came  on 
deck.  A  smart,  east  wind  had  sprung  up  since  sun 
rise,  and  we  were  making  a  long  tack  to  the  south 
ward  of  our  course,  which  was  southeast,  under  full 
sail.  He  went  aft,  and  with  his  long  glass  scanned 
the  western  sky  very  carefully  several  minutes.  He 
then  went  to  the  wheel,  and  examined  the  ropes. 
Apparently  satisfied  with  his  examination,  he  next 
went  forward,  and  shouted  to  the  lookout  aloft — 
"  Keep  a  sharp  eye  ahead,  there,  do  you  hear  ?'' 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Then  taking  a  general  survey  from  where  he  stood, 
of  the  vessel,  he  turned  to  Mr.  Demt,  the  first  mate, 
who,  by  the  way,  was  a  very  obsequious,  no-minded 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  81 

sort  of  individual,  and  said  in  a  low,  serious  tone, 
"  We  shall  be  a  good  hundred  knots  from  this  point 
before  sundown,  or  some  fathoms  below  low-water 
mark,  I  can  tell  you  that." 

"  That's  my  opinion,  Captain  Smith,"  said  Mr. 
Demt,  looking  towards  the  west. 

I  beheld  these  significant  manoeuvres,  and  listened 
to  this  remark  of  Captain  Smith  with  the  profoundest 
interest.  Something  awful  was  portending,  I  had  no 
doubt,  but  of  what  it  was,  precisely,  I  had  only  a 
vague  idea.  To  be  sure,  things  looked  ominously 
strange  ;  yet  I  had  seen  similar  appearances  on  shore 
pass  into  a  clear  day,  or  into  a  dull  three-days'  rain. 
Captain  Smith's  conduct,  however,  could  not  be 
without  a  cause,  thought  I ;  and  the  recollection  of 
what  I  had  heard  about  storms  at  sea,  coming  up  in 
this  connection,  shed  some  light  and  a  good  deal  of 
dread  into  my  mind.  "While  I  Avas  yet  undetermined 
how  to  set  the  matter  down  in  my  judgment,  it 
thundered  again,  a  long,  low,  heavy  roll,  as  though 
it  were  under  water,  deep  down,  and  rising  with 
heavy  sweeps  to  the  surface.  The  clouds  in  the  west 
grew  rapidly  thicker  and  more  cumbrous,  rising 
slowly,  and  sending  out  torn  fragments,  which,  reach- 

4* 


82  GKKl.-N    MOUNTAIN 

in«:  in  Ions  stretches   far   towards  the    east,  began 

O  O  '  O 

to  darken  the  sun.  Another  deep  roll  of  thunder, 
heavier,  harsher  than  before,  and  the  wind  sud 
denly  ceased.  The  long  pennant  fell,  and  the  huge 
sails  napped  listlessly  against  the  inasts.  Captain 
Smith,  who  had  been  a  short  time  below,  now  came 
hurriedly  on  deck  with  a  speaking  trumpet  in  his  hand. 

"  All  hands  into  the  rigging  1"  he  shouted  fiercely. 
"  Up  !  up  !  every  one  of  you,  and  work  like  devils. 
Furl  every  rag."  Then,  turning  to  the  first  mate,  he 
said — "  I  fear  this  ought  to  have  been  done  before, 
At  all  events  we  have  not  one  minute  to  lose." 

"  That's  my  opinion,  Captain  Smith,"  echoed  the 
other. 

At  this  crisis  I  was  beckoned  below  by  the  benign 
steward.  In  the  unusual  circumstances  that  were 
transpiring,  I  had  forgotten  my  official  duties,  which 
I  now  hastened  to  dispatch,  and  came  again  on  deck 
just  in  time  to  see  the  men  hurrying  from  the  bare 
masts  and  yards,  like  so  many  frightened  pigeons 
from  a  dry  tree,  some  flushed  with  agreeable  expecta 
tion,  others  pale  with  fear. 

The  sky  was  now  completely  overcast,  and  every 
few  moments  lurid  flashes  filled  the  whole  scene,  while 


•n:,\vr  T.I.::;:?     I:XT?:I;TAT.\M:-NT.  83 

the  deep,  heavy  thunder  rolled  almost  continually. 
Absorbed  in  watching  the  movements  on  deck,  I 
did  not  notice  that  Senk  stood  by  me,  until  he  said, 
grasping  my  shoulder  with  one  hand  rather  harshly, 
and  pointing  with  the  other  towards  the  west,  "  See 
there,  lad."  I  looked.  There  was  a  long  streak  of 
white  extending  to  the  right  and  left  out  of  sight.  It 
was  rapidly  approaching,  and  seemed  to  annihilate 
the  sea  as  it  came.  "  What  is  that  ?"  I  exclaimed.  A 
deep  roar,  faint,  yet  heavy,  from  the  direction  of  the 
appearance  answered  me.  It  was  the  vanguard  of  the 
coming  storm.  I  looked  in  Senk's  face.  It  was 
pallid.  "  Are  we  going  to  be  wrecked  ?"  said  I,  trem 
bling  with  apprehension. 

"  I  don't  know,  lad,"  he  replied  swallowing. 
"  That's  the  worst  looking  storm  I  ever  seen,  I  know ; 
if  we  don't  founder,  there's  a  chance." 

"We  both  looked  in  silence  a  few  moments  at  the 
awfully  portentous  object  that  was  so  rapidly  and 
irresistibly  nearing.  Suddenly  Senk  started,  and 
taking  me  by  the  hand  said — "  Farewell !  my  lad. 
There'll  be  no  chance  for  words  when  that's  upon  us, 
If  we  go  down,  farewell! — ye'd  better  go  below." 

I  don't  know  why  it  was,  but  I  had  an  exceeding 


84;  GRKKN    MOUNTAIN 

repugnance  to  going  below,  and  therefore  told  Sent 
I  would  rather  stay  on  deck. 

"  Hang  on,  then,"  he  said  ;  "  ye  think  ye've  been 
pulled  ;  but  ye'll  find  ye  never  was  pulled  so  before." 
With  this  he  left  me,  but  returned  almost  imme 
diately  with  a  lanyard. 

"  If  ye  will  stay  up  here,  ye  must  be  tied,"   he 

• 

said,  leading  me  to  a  mast,  and  proceeding  to  make 
me  fast  to  it. 

Nearer,  ever  more  swiftly  approaching,  came  that 
ominous  shape  ;  and  now  I  could  see  the  sea  beyond. 
All  was  one  white  sheet  of  foam.  Nearer,  nearer 
it  came.  Nearer.  Now  close  at  hand.  I  was  rigid 
with  suspense.  A  moment.  The  long  pennant 
starts  like  an  unsheathed  sword,  keen,  quick,  glanc 
ing  off,  and  pointing  with  quivering  end;  the  tall 
masts  bend  ;  the  huge  ship  of  a  thousand  tons,  now 
like  a  feather,  rises  upon  the  sweeping  billows, 
and  the  storm  is  upon  us. 

Gentlemen,  I  can  assure  those  of  you  who  have 
not  experienced  it,  that  you  can  form  no  just  idea 
of  what  a  strong  wind  at  sea  is.  It  docs  not  seem 
like  wind,  but  like  thin  water,  rushing  in  an  over 
whelming,  resistless  tide.  So  fierce  and  swift  is  it, 


TRAVELLEKS'    ENTERTAINMENT.  85 

that  the  skin  exposed  fairly  smarts.  Quite  painfully 
did  mine  smart,  as  strapped  to  that  mast  I  stood,  or, 
rather  hung,  helpless.  For  a  full  minute,  I  believe, 
I  could  get  no  breath  at  all.  At  length,  by  putting 
my  hands  over  my  mouth,  and  turning  my  face  to 
leeward,  I  managed  to  breathe  after  a  gasping  fashion. 

With  the  same  tremendous  force  the  wind  con 
tinued  for  nearly  an  hour.  The  vessel  obeying  her 
rudder  faithfully,  shot  along  at  an  alarming  speed. 
The  -wind  slacked  a  little,  and  but  a  little,  and  the 
sea  began  to  rise  fearfully.  The  two  men  at  the 
wheel  were  found  inadequate,  and  two  more  were 
called  to  their  assistance.  The  waves  increased 
every  moment,  dashing  wildly  along,  without  begin 
ning  or  end,  exhaustless.  The  noble  ship  reeled  and 
plunged  like  a  wounded  war-horse,  yet  still  held  on 
her  course. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  fully  realized  the  import 
ance  of  being  secured  as  I  was.  A  great  wave,  three 
fold  larger  than  any  before,  came  sweeping  along. 
"  A  sea !  a  sea !"  shouted  the  men  at  the  wheel  in 
chorus,  "  A  sea !  a  sea !"  was  echoed  from  all  parts 
of  the  deck.  I  drew  in  a  full  breath,  and  embraced 
the  mast.  The  next  instant  a  tide  ten  feet  above  our 


86  OKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

heads  dashed  madly  over  us.  Tlie  good  ship  swayed 
as  though,  endowed  with  life,  she  had  been  dealt  a 
stunning  blow.  Would  she  go  down  ?  The  thought 
was  scarcely  formed  when  I  was  again  breathing  the 
misty  air.  Every  movable  had  been  swept  away ; 
and  scarcely  had  the  water  subsided,  when  the  heart- 
thrilling  cry  rose  above  the  storm.  "  A  man  over 
board  !"  "Why  raise  that  cry  ?  Poor  wretch !  how 
could  they  save  him  ?  He  was  a  young  sailor,  inex 
perienced  in  such  dreadful  straits.  They  tried  to 
save  him.  He  was  seen  floating  a  short  distance 
away.  Being  a  good  swimmer,  he  sustained  himself 
bravely ;  but  the  cruel  tide  had  borne  him  too  far 
from  the  ship.  A  rope  was  thrown,  but  he  could 
not  reach  it.  "  A  sea !  a  sea !"  cried  the  men 
at  the  wheel,  and  another  wave,  like  the  first,  clashed 
over  us.  The  man  overboard  was  gone  for  ever. 

I  began  to  wish  myself  below.  Matters  had  put  . 
on  a  more  serious  aspect  than  I  had  anticipated.  But 
a  few  moments'  reflection  convinced  me  that  the 
attempt  would  be  absurd;  so  I  grinned  defiauce  to 
my  fears,  and  stood  prepared  for  whatever  dispensa 
tion  it  should  please  Providence  to  inflict. 

The  wind  now  shifted  suddenly,  blowing  at  a  sharp 


TRAVKLLKRS'     KXT,:KTAIXMENT.  87 

angle  with  tlie  previous  track,  and  tlie  waves  became 
smaller,  but  more  terrible.  The  ship  tossed  frantic 
ally.  No  more  obeying  the  rudder,  she  floated 
unmanageable,  creaking,  and  straining  as  though 
every  moment  she  would  part  asunder.  Again  the 
wind  shifted,  and  became  fitful.  One  fierce  gust  car 
ried  away  the  main-top-mast,  with  a  tearing  crash 
heard  clearly  above  the  rushing,  deafening  sound  of 
the  wind  and  waves.  The  tightly  furled  sails  began 
to  loosen,  by  slow  degrees  at  first,  though  the  wind 
snatched  as  with  a  thousand  giant  fingers — then  gave 
way,  gasket  by  gasket,  till,  flapping  and  tearing,  they 
were  carried  away,  leaving  bare  poles.  It  was  now 
nearly  noon.  Every  change  so  far  had  been  for  the 
worse,  and  our  prospects  were  growing  more  dubious 
every  moment.  As  the  last  sail — which  clung  long, 
like  hope — was  flying  in  shreds,  I  saw  Captain 
Smith  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Demt,  who  had  been 
continually  at  his  side,  and  go  below.  He  had  not 
been  gone  three  minutes  when  Senk  came  rushing  by 
me,  and  leaped  down  the  hatchway.  I  looked  to  the 
fore  top.  The  lookout,  stationed  there,  was  waving 
his  hat,  and  shouting,  his  face  purple  with  exertion. 
What  can  it  mean?  I  inquired  anxiously  of  myself. 


88  GRKKX    MoWl  A  IN 

While  I  was  looking,  and  striving  to  form  some  con 
jecture,  the  sound  of  Captain  Smith's  big  feet  on  the 
deck  near  me,  attracted  my  attention.  He  was  run 
ning  towards  the  bow.  I  had  never  before  seen  him 
run,  and  for  the  moment,  anxious  as  I  was,  I  felt 
strongly  inclined  to  laugh,  so  ludicrous  was  the  gene 
ral  impression  his  figure  made  upon  me.  Arrived  at 
the  bow,  he  clapped  his  glass  to  his  eye.  Not  being 
satisfied  with  his  position,  he  came  back,  and  boldly 
mounted  the  shrouds,  which  led  to  the  lookout.  I 
expected  every  instant  to  see  him  fall,  the  ship 
plunged  so  dreadfully.  But  he  reached  the  cross- 
trees  in  safety,  and  putting  the  glass  again  to  his  eye, 
he  looked,  while  the  lookout,  now  more  at  ease,  sat 
with  both  hands  partly  raised,  as  though  he  were 
holding  the  ship,  sea,  winds,  and  all  things,  thai 
Captain  Smith  might  look.  He  evidently  saw  some 
thing.  His  hat  blew  off.  Still  he  continued  to  look. 
A  sudden  lurch  of  the  vessel  made  him,  perhaps  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  drop  his  glass.  The  wind 
bore  it  like  a  thread  far  out  into  the  water.  Still  ho 
continued  to  look. 

"  Our  time's  come,"  shouted  some  one  in  my  lee« 
ward  ear.     It  was  Senk. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  89 

"  What  is  it  ?  what  is  it  ?"  I  shouted  in  reply. 

"A  reef  lies  directly  across  her  course.  No 
chance  now." 

The  consciousness  of  Senk's  long  experience  on 
the  sea,  left  in  me  no  room  for  doubt,  and  the  horrors 
of  immediate  death  came  upon  me.  For  a  moment 
I  was  paralyzed.  Yet,  but  a  moment ;  for  my  mind, 
reacting  from  the  shock,  became  as  a  mirror,  upon 
which  all  my  past  life  shone  a  living  picture.  I  saw 
my  fother  and  mother ;  my  younger  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  myself — rash,  thoughtless  boy — among 
them,  and  my  schoolmates  playing  at  their  exciting 
games.  The  fields  where  I  had  labored  in  discontent 
were  before  me ;  and  the  patient  oxen  that  had  so 
often  been  visited  with  my  wrath  ;  the  cows,  the 
sheep,  the  lazy  swine,  and  the  rampant  calves ;  the 
old  church,  and  the  stereotyped  divine  who  had 
warned  the  young  goats — of  which  I  was  chief — so 
often  to  beware ;  the  quiet  churchyard — and  with 
that  I  recurred  to  things  around  me.  I  thought  of 
how  my  father  and  my  mother  now  looked,  and  my 
brothers  and  sisters ;  how  they  would  never  know 
what  became  of  me,  ever  hoping  that  I  would  return, 
yet  hoping  in  vain.  Thus  wandering  in  a  reverie, 


90  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

insensible  to  the  drenching  spray  and  to  the  extreme 
fatigue  which  my  unchanging  position  occasioned 
me,  my  eyes  were  attracted  by  an  appearance 
directly  ahead  and  not  far  off,  which  resembled  the 
one  that  had  characterized  the  approaching  storm. 
I  turned.  Senk  still  stood  by  me.  "  What's  that  ?"  I 
asked,  forgetting  what  he  had  told  me  a  few  minutes 
before,  and  vaguely  anticipating  a  counter  storm. 
He  made  no  reply.  He,  too,  was  perhaps  thinking 
of  a  quiet  home  far  away,  where  knelt  aged  parents 
at  the  close  of  day,  to  ask  protection  for  one  who  had 
gone  forth  upon  the  treacherous  deep.  I  repeated 
my  question  in  a  higher  tone. 

"That  white  streak?"  he  inquired,  looking  intently 
in  the  direction  I  pointed.  "  Yes,  that's  the  reef, 
Good  God !  we're  close  upon  it.  Say  your  prayers, 
lad.  It  will  soon  be  too  late." 

Captain  Smith  had  continued  to  look  all  this  time. 
Perhaps  lie  had  thoughts  of  home.  But  whatsoever 
occupied  his  mind,  was  to  appearance  suddenly 
dispelled  when  the  sun,  now  past  the  meridian, 
flashed  out  from  the  clouds  which  were  much 
broken,  and  shone  down  upon  the  appalling  danger 
ahead.  He  left  his  position,  and  descending  to  the 


TRAVELLERS'  KNTKKTAINMKNT.  91 

deck,  went  aft.  If  I  had  dared,  I  would  have 
unfastened  myself,  and  followed  him,  for  I  felt 
attracted  towards  him  in  this  awful  extremity.'  But 
it  required  all  the  skill  of  an  experienced  sailor  to 
walk  that  deck  at  that  time,  and  I  did  not  deem  it 
prudent  for  me  to  venture. 

One  by  one  the  remainder  of  the  crew  came  up 
from  below,  the  placid  steward  bringing  up  the  rear. 
He  came  alongside  of  me,  and  said  in  a  voice  as 
calm  as  the  exertion  necessary  to  make  me  hear 
allowed — "  Well,  they  say  we've  got  to  go  down  to 
the  bottom.;  are  you  prepared  to  die  ?" 

In  foolish  moments  I  had  made  sport  of  his  pious 
turn  of  mind,  laughing  at  his  laudations  of  the 
enthusiastic  sect  to  which  he  belonged — he  was  a 
devout  Methodist — and  whistling  discord  to  his 
psalmodic  efforts,  in  which  he  indulged  night  and 
morning ;  ^but  now,  in  my  despair,  I  strove  to  lean 
upon  his  honest  piety. 

"  Good  man,  pray  for  me,"  I  cried  piteously. 
Obedient  to  my  wish  he  knelt,  and  offered  a  short 
petition  to  Heaven,  of  which  I  heard  not  a  word 
because  of  the  confusion  that  prevailed.  As  he 
arose,  I  could  not  help  perceiving  the  contrast  he 


92  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

presented  to  the  rest  of  the  crew.  Despair  was 
stamped  upon  each  countenance.  Some  were  crying 
towarfl.  Heaven  with  beseeching  looks,  and  uplifted 
hands,  others  were  walking  to  and  fro  gnashing  their 
teeth,  others  again  sat  with  hands  convulsively- 
clenched  in  their  hair,  and  staring  vacantly.  He, 
the  steward,  alone  was  calm ;  the  derided  "  St. 
Ebony,"  as  he  had  been  often  termed,  leaning  upon 
the  Power  which  is  not  of  this  world,  stood  sublimely 
there,  a  man  among  those  shrinking  wretches. 

While  observing  thus  the  contrast,  I  saw  Mr.  Dernt 
make  a  motion  as  though  suggesting  something  to 
Captain  Smith,  who  was  leaning  against  the  quarter- 
rail.  He  immediately  took  the  glass  which  Mr. 
Demt  handed  him,  and  looked  long  and  intently  in  a 
direction  contrary  to  the  danger ;  then,  in  answer  to 
the  anxiously  inquiring  gaze  of  his  companion,  he 
shook  his  head. 

The  wind  veered  again,  apparently  so  as  to  blow 
us  the  more  disastrously  upon  the  reef — the  sound  of 
whose  breakers  was  plainly  heard — and  continuing 
steadily  for  about  five  minutes,  ceased  almost  as 
abruptly  as  it  had  begun.  Not  so  the  sen.  Lashed 
for  six  hours  so  unsparingly  by  the  fleet  giant,  it 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  93 

would  not  be  lulled  by  the  soft  breeze  that  fol 
lowed. 

"  What's  to  be  done  ?"  said  Captain  Smith  to  Mr. 
Demt,  as  they  walked  slowly  past  me,  forward. 

"  That's  just  what  I  was  thinking,  Captain  Smith," 
replied  the  addressed. 

"I  don't  see  as  anything  can  be  done,"  rejoined 
Captain  Smith.  "  There's  not  time  to  do  anything, 
if  there  were  any  use  in  trying.  "We  must  go 
aground — I  can  see  no  help  for  it." 

"That's  just  my  opinion,  Capt.  Smith,"  said  Mr. 
Demt ;  and  they  walked  out  of  my  hearing. 

Lurching,  plunging,  drifting  slowly,  we  approached 
the  reef.  Again  Capt.  Smith  leaned  over  the  quarter 
rail  and  looked.  The  sun  was  shining  most  brilliant 
ly,  the  sky  being  perfectly  clear.  Shifting  his  glass 
from  eye  to  eye,  and  wiping  it  often,  then  removing 
it,  and,  squaring  himself,  re-adjusting  it  several  times, 
as  though  taking  aim,  Captain  Smith  at  last  threw  up 
his  hands  with  a  dignified  gesture.  Mr.  Demt  walked 
hurriedly  to  him,  and  taking  the  glass,  looked.  The 
boatswain  and  two  or  three  sailors  now  joined  them, 
and  the  attention  of  all  was  attracted  towards  their 
movements.  Senk  stood  not  far  from  me.  "  Is  there 


94  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

any  hope  ?"  I  inquired.  Before  he  could  reply,  a  new, 
joyful  cry  burst  from  all  sides — "  A  sail !  a  sail !"  I 
looked  towards  the  group.  Captain  Smith  was  smil 
ing  most  cordially,  and  shaking  hands  with  the  obse 
quious  mate,  down  whose  cheeks  ran  tears.  "  Thank 
God  !  thank  God  !"  sounded  from  all  sides.  The  pious 
steward  was  more  ceremonious  in  his  gratitude.  He 
knelt  upon  the  deck  and  poured  out  his  soul  quite 
devoutly,  though  the  motion  of  the  vessel  thwarted 
his  devotions  most  sadly. 

After  the  first  gush,  the  joyous  excitement  on  board 
ebbed  greatly.  Of  what  practical  use  was  that  sail 
to  us  ?  was  the  substance  of  every  one's  thoughts.  It 
was  yet  far  distant — barely  discernible  with  the  na 
ked  eye — and  in  a  few  minutes,  at  most,  we  would  be 
scattered  among  the  greedy,  remorseless  waves.  To 
add  to  the  returning  depression,  it  was  determined 
that,  by  the  course  the  stranger  was  taking,  she  would 
be  out  of  sight  in  an  hour. 

Could  we  attract  their  notice  ? 

The  gun  was  thought  of,  but  instantly  pronounced 
inexpedient.  Other  things  were  thought  of,  and  men 
tioned,  and  some  one  was  speaking,  when,  borne  on  a 
heavy  sea,  the  ship  struck  with  tremendous  force. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  95 

Grating,  and  tearing,  she  floated  off  with  the  ebbing 
billow ;  and  before  we  had  fairly  recovered  our 
breath,  she  struck  again, — this  time  with  a  crash  that 
Bent  all  traces  of  blood  from  the  faces  of  the  bravest ; 
even  the  steward,  for  the  moment,  appeared  slightly 
faded.  Again,  the  third  time.  She  did  not  float 
away.  Another  sea  followed,  and  hove  her  huge  bulk 
further  on  to  the  unyielding  reef.  Another,  and 
another.  She  poised  a  few  moments,  as  though,  en 
tirely  exhausted  with  the  merciless  conflict,  the  last 
struggle  had  come,  then  sank  heavily  and  helplessly 
upon  her  side,  a  forlorn  wreck.  Fortunately  for  me, 
the  side  of  the  mast  I  occupied  proved  the  upper  side. 
Had  it  been  the  under,  I  must  have  perished.  As  it 
was,  every  wave  dashed  over  me,  and  I  should  not 
have  lived  five  minutes,  had  it  not  been  for  Senk  and 
the  steward,  who,  foreseeing  the  danger,  had  secured 
a  lanyard.  With  their  united  efforts, — the  steward 
holding  and  Senk  descending — I  was,  nearly  stran 
gled,  brought  to  the  bulwarks,  and  bidden  to  hold  on 
for  my  life. 

The  sea  had  become  considerably  calmed,  but  it 
still  ran  high  enough  to  dash  over  the  wreck  from 
time  to  time,  sunken  as  it  was  in  about  two  fathoma 


96  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

of  water.  However,  the  evil  was  lessening,  and  hope 
stimulated  us  to  efforts  that  seemed  like  the  efforts 
of  despair.  "While  we  were  thus  clinging  to  the  shat 
tered  and  swaying  wreck,  the  sun  went  down  into  the 
ragged  bosom  of  the  sea  ;  and  as  the  twilight,  soften 
ed  by  the  coming  night,  enabled  us  to  see  the  horizon 
clearly,  we  saw — how  very  grateful  was  the  sight ! — 
we  saw  that  the  stranger  had  altered  her  course,  and 
was  approaching  us.  While  the  first  thrill  of  joy  was 
yet  trembling  along  our  nerves,  Captain  Smith,  re 
moving  the  glass  through  which  he  had  been  looking 
for  a  few  minutes,  said,  with  a  familiar  cheerfulness 
so  unusual  with  him  that  some  of  us  at  first  failed  to 
apprehend, — "  Boys,  she  has  a  signal  out !  She  sees 
us  !"  Rapturous  joy  now  took  possession  of  us  all. 
The  good  steward  thanked  his  Maker  seven  or  eight 
times,  in  slow,  emphatic  succession,  and  pulled  out  a 
pocket  volume  of  hymns  essaying  a  song  of  praise  ; 
but  the  sea,  unmindful  of  him,  sent  a  great  wave 
that  swallowed  up  his  book,  and  he  gave  up  the 
attempt. 

As  the  darkness  deepened,  and  the  twilight  faded, 
we  saw,  dimmer  and  dimmer,  the  friendly  sail  ap 
proaching  ;  and  as  the  new  moon  dipped  slowly  into 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  97 

the  sea,  which  was  very  much  calmed  from  sunset, 
we  saw  that  sail  quite  distinctly  still  approaching. 

A  long  night  was  that.  Exhausted  by  labor  and 
want  of  food,  it  was  a  wonder  that  we  sustained  our 
selves  in  our  critical  position  through  the  long,  dark 
hours.  But  we  did,  without  the  loss  of  a  man  ;  and 
when  the  morning  twilight  opened  the  prospect,  we 
saw  the  stranger  vessel  at  anchor  a  half  mile  from  ua, 
and  a  small  boat,  manned  with  four  vigorous  oars 
men,  coming  to  our  relief. 

Before  nine  o'clock  we  were  all  on  board ;  and  hav- 
ing-refreshed  ourselves  with  a  most  relishable  break 
fast,  we  gathered  on  deck,  contemplating  our  last 
night's  lodgings  quite  seriously,  for  we  had  many 
regrets.  Senk  actually  shed  tears,  declaring  that  he 
would  rather  have  buried  his  mother  than  seen 
his  home  for  so  many  years  lying  there  helpless,  to 
be  knocked  in  pieces  by  the  next  storm  that  should 
come  that  way.  I  shed  some  tears  with  him ;  and  he 
was  yet  narrating  to  me,  in  a  feeling  manner,  how  the 
staunch  old  vessel  had  bravely  stood  the  onset  and 
the  angry  buffetings  of  the  last  storm  of  her  course, 
when  the  brisk  order  was  given  to  make  ready  for 
departure.  Senk  left  the  sentence  unfinished  in  his 

5 


98  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

mouth,  and  the  next  instant  was  at  the  capstan,  heav 
ing  with  might  and  main,  and  joining  lustily  in  the 
exhilarating  chorus. 

Soon  all  was  ready,  and  slowly  we  left  the  scene  of 
so  much  hope  and  despair,  gathering  aft,  as  the  dis 
tance  increased,  to  catch  a  parting  glimpse  of  the 
wreck,  and  straining  our  eyes  till  the  sharpest  sighted 
declared  it  no  longer  visible. 


TEAVELLEKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.        99 


CHAPTER  IY. 

AT  the  point  where  the  foregoing  chapter  ends, 
the  narrator  was  interrupted  in  his  story,  by  the  little 
dry  man  rising,  and  stating,  apologetically,  that,  as 
his  plan  of  travel  rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to 
depart  at  a  very  early  hour,  he  must,  though  some 
what  against  his  inclination,  for  lie  was  considerably 
interested  in  the  narration,  and  hoped  it  would  con 
tinue  to  prove  entertaining  to  us, — he  must,  however, 
with  our  permission,  retire  to  bed. 

"We  all  assented  by  rising ;  and,  the  Quaker  setting 
the  example,  we  approached  severally,  and  taking 
his  withered  hand,  bade  the  unhappy  man  farewell. 
When  we  had  resumed  our  positions,  and  all  was 
still  again,  the  supposed  lawyer,  after  clearing  his 
throat,  sonorously  continued  his  story  as  follows : — 

The  stranger  that  had  come  so  oppbitnnely  to 
our  assistance,  was  also  a  trading  vessel,  and  bolwged 
to  a  company  in  Liverpool.  It  was  bound  fo*  feha 


100  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

same  port  for  which  our  ill-fated  ship  had  been 
destined — a  fortunate  incident  for  Captain  Smith,  and 
Mr.  Demt,  who  had  friends  there,  but  of  no  account 
to  the  rest  of  us,  as  our  home  was  the  deep,  and  our 
friends  its  wandering  denizens,  met — it  mattered  not 
where.  Of  course,  I  do  not  apply  this  last  remark  to 
myself,  so  much  as  the  rest  of  the  crew,  though  I 
have  since  had  occasion  to  feel  its  truth  somewhat. 

I  had  hitherto  served  as  cabin-boy,  and  owing  to 
the  amiable  disposition  of  my  master,  had  not  expe 
rienced  much  hardship.  So  pleasant  indeed  had 
been  my  situation,  that  I  had  congratulated  myself 
often  in  view  of  it — especially  as  compared  with  the 
tasks  and  oppression  of  my  earlier  boyhood.  But 
in  the  change  of  circumstances,  generally,  mine 
changed  also.  On  board  the  new  ship,  I  was  placed 
"before  the  mast,"  and  promptly  initiated  into  the 
calling  of  a  common  sailor.  The  sleight-of-foot 
which  I  had  so  often  admired — dizzy  with  the  con 
templation,  I  was  now  forced  to  practice  myself.  Oh, 
it  was  trying !  the  first  trembling  essay  to  mount  to 
the  mast-head.  I  hardly  think  I  should  have  accom* 
plished  it  but  for  Senk,  who  volunteered  to-  go  up 
just  before  me.  With  the  stimulus  of  his  cheering 


TRAVELLERS  ENTERTAINMENT.       101 

voice,  and  the  consciousness  of  his  being  at  hand  to 
assist  in  case  of  failure,  I  accomplished  the  feat  in 
perfect  safety,  returning  to  the  deck  alone.  Repeat 
ing  the  manoeuvre  often,  I  soon  got  the  better  of  my 
fears,  and  felt  entirely  at  ease  anywhere,  from  the 
deck  upwards,  indefinitely.  But  the  usual  pleasing 
excitement  arising  from  the  overcoming  of  obsta 
cles  wore  away  directly,  and  1  became  exquisitely 
sensitive  to  the  galling  chain  of  monotonous  labor 
imposed  upon  me.  The  weather  was  generally  disa 
greeable,  being  windy,  and  wet,  in  that  half-way 
manner,  which  forbids  alike  ease  or  excitement,  and 
being  fixedly  on  duty  twelve  hours  out  of  the  twenty- 
four,  without  regard  to  external  circumstances,  my 
cup  of  affliction  filled  up  rapidly,  and  I  felt  all  the 
nameless  agonies  of  an  oppressed  boy.  I  sickened  at 
heart,  and  soured  in  the  same  locality ;  and  in  the 
course  of  fermentation  I  thought  much  and  lovingly 
of  my  old  home.  I  thought  of  it  more  and  more 
until  my  absence  of  mind  attracted  the  notice  of  my 
companicns ;  and  the  happy  turns  of  speech  which 
some  of  them  contributed  at  my  expense,  considera 
bly  heightened  the  prevailing  state  of  mind  undei 
which  I  labored.  Yet  Senk  stood  by  me,  and  com 


102  GRKEN    MOUNTAIN 

forted  me  hopefully.  Had  it  not  been  for  him,  I 
might  have  gone  down  under  the  load.  But  his  kind 
ness  did  not  hinder  my  being  seized  finally  with 
home-sickness,  in  one  of  its  most  demolishing  forms. 

Home-sickness !  thou  pale-faced  embodiment  of 
fond  regrets,  hovering  over  the  weary  and  oppressed, 
far  from  the  roof  that  echoed  the  cries  of  their 
infancy, — hovering  kindly  with  an  aroma  emanating 
from  thee  which  embalms  the  scenes  which  fond 
memory  brings, — touching  with  soft,  feeble  fingers 
the  heartstrings.  O,  thou  —  but  I  will  not  tarry 
hoping  to  grow  eloquent.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I 
was  growing  worse  daily,  when  a  decided  circum 
stance  put  an  end  to  my  ailment,  quite  magically — 
at  once,  and  for  ever.  It  was  this  : 

One  sunny  afternoon,  soon  after  doubling  Cape 
Good  Hope — by-the-by,  the  first  sunshine  we  had 
Deen  visited  with  for  three  weeks — I  was  sitting  on 
the  taffrail  thinking  of  the  sunny  afternoons  of  my 
earlier  life.  The  genial  rays  of  the  sun  gave  the  run 
of  my  mind  a  dreamy  character,  separating  me  quite 
distinctly  from  surrounding  things.  From  reverie, 
encouraged  by  the  silence  and  general  harmony 
which  prevailed,  the  transition  to  real  sleep  was 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  103 

quite  easy  and  natural — so  easy  and  natural,  that  I 
underwent  it,  and  my  centre  of  gravity  being  nicely 
adjusted,  I  remained  wrapped  in  serene  slumber  for  a 
time.  As  sleep  deepened  upon  me,  my  muscles 
insensibly  relaxed,  particularly  those  of  my  arms  and 
hands,  which  embraced  my  knees.  Suddenly  my 
fingers  parted  asunder,  and  with  an  unreserved  lurch 
I  departed  headlong  backwards  into  the  sea.  I  came 
to  the  surface  in  a  state  of  disputed  possession 
between  air  and  water — an  idea  of  sharks,  however, 
taking  partial  lead  of  my  confused  faculties,  and 
imparting  a  spasmodic  stimulus,  I  succeeded  in 
maintaining  my  head,  until  a  line,  with  a  buoy 
attached,  thrown  to  me  from  the  receding  ship, 
enabled  my  comrades  to  draw  me  in,  which  they  did 
in  silence  until  I  was  safely  on  deck;  then  transpired 
a  great  shout  and  a  miscellaneous  waving  of  tarpau 
lins  which  made  me  feel  quite  distinguished.  The 
cure  was  perfect.  I  felt  as  though  I  had  poured 
'myself  out  a  libation  to  the  sea,  and  was  thence 
forth  devoted  to  it. 

Our  voyage  thenceforward  was  without  accident  or 
incident  worthy  of  recapitulation.  Arrived  at  the  des 
tined  port,  we,  who  had  belonged  to  the  wrecked 


104:  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

vessel,  went  out  two  and  two  and  separated,  some  of  us 
for  ever.  Senk  seemed  to  have  incorporated  me  into 
the  narrow  sphere  of  his  hopes  and  desires.  He 
clung  to  me  as  a  father  to  a  child.  .Being  without 
employment  we  set  about  seeking  the  same.  "We 
succeeded  after  some  search  in  finding  a  vessel, 
which  having  in  a  late  storm  lost  a  part  of  her  crew, 
accepted  our  proffered  services  with  a  promise  of 
fair  remuneration,  and  accordingly  we  went  on 
board  and  took  up  quarters.  It  was  an  English 
vessel,  not  so  large  as  the  one  we  had  quitted,  but 
better  appointed.  It  was  engaged  in  the  East  India 
trade,  and  was  on  its  way  out,  being  only  incidentally 
in  that  port  for  the  purpose  of  refitting.  At  that 
time  great  danger  from  pirates  was  incurred  in  navi 
gating  some  parts  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  every 
trading  vessel  was  more  or  less  provided  with  means 
of  self-defence.  Our  ship  carried  four  pieces  of 
ordnance,  and  had  also  a  small  armory.  These  I 
discovered  the  next  day  after  going  on  board,  while 
perambulating,  cat-fashion,  for  the  purpose  of  form 
ing  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  my  new  home ; 
and  I  also  discovered  some  marks  which  suggested 
an  idea  of  war.  I  asked  a  sailor  who  stood  near  as 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  105 

to  their  origin.  From  him  I  learned  that  the  ship 
had  already  seen  two  desperate  conflicts  with  pirates, 
and  had  been  metaphorically  named  '  The  Irresisti 
ble,'  on  account  of  having  come  off  conqueror 
both  times.  I  swung  in  my  hammock  that  night  to 
the  imaginary  cadence  of  imaginary  fifes  and  drums, 
and  saw  in  my  dreams  great  fields  of  men  mowed 
down,  and  the  whole  swallowed  up  in  a  shoreless  sea 
of  blood. 

Our  captain's  name  was  Thims.  He  was  as  much 
the  reverse  of  Captain  Smith  as  was  the  ortho 
graphy  of  his  name.  He  was  a  tall,  well-propor 
tioned,  robust,  sunny  man — everybody's  friend  as 
long  as  everybody  would  allow  him  to  be,  but  a 
most  implacable  enemy  to  any  one  who  saw  fit  to 
refuse  him  friendship.  He  was  jovial  among  his 
shipmates  to  an  uncommon  degree,  and  strongly 
prepossessed  in  favor  of  the  world  at  large.  Every 
sailor  on  board,  except  one  sulky  old  hound — of 
whom  I  shall  have  something  to  say  by-and-by — 
was  his  familiar  and  ever  cordially  greeted  friend ; 
and  so  much  was  he  beloved  by  them,  that  the  ful 
fillment  of  his  wishes  was  at  all  times  a  most  binding 
duty  among  them. 

5* 


106  GEEEN    MOUNTAIN 

Being  duly  refitted  and  rendered  sea-worthy,  our 
ship's  prow  was  turned  seaward,  and  we  were  soon 
again  far  out  upon  the  deep. 

Months  passed.  I  continued  to  perform  my  nauti 
cal  duties  faithfully,  and  in  a  measure  successfully, 
making  great  initiatory  progress.  Being  quick  and 
vigorous,  I  soon  acquired  all  those  tricks  of  ascent 
and  descent,  of  balancing  and  turning  summersault 
which  so  puzzle  a  landsman  in  a  sailor,  and  could 
climb  and  leap,  and  swing,  and  shout  "  Ay,  ay,  sir !" 
with  the  lustiest.  Everything  went  on  smoothly. 
The  vessel  was  duly  freighted  to  the  entire  satisfac 
tion  of  the  agents  employed  by  the  house  that 
owned  her,  and  we  turned  prow  towards  London. 

Our  voyage  to  that  commercial  emporium  was 
slow  and  quiet,  without  prominent  incidents.  It 
consumed  several  months. 

Tarrying  at  London  three  or  four  weeks,  we  again 
put  to  sea.  Again  our  voyage  was  prosperous,  and 
tedious,  until  we  reached  the  vicinity  of  Cape  Good 
Hope.  Here  we  met  with  a  narrow  escape.  A  sud 
den,  rampant  squall,  peculiar  to  that  coast,  came  up 
in  the  night,  and  blowing  directly  ashore,  bore  us  un 
mercifully  along  with  it.  Happily,  we  were  so  far 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  107 

advanced  upon  our  course  as  to  have  passed  the  worst 
part  of  the  promontory ;  yet  there  was  one  rock,  as  it 
afterwards  appeared,  from  which  we  were  saved  barely 
by  one  somewhat  surprising  circumstance.  The  sulky 
sailor,  to  whom  I  have  before  alluded,  was  at  the 
Avheel.  He  was  a  gigantic  fellow,  having  fully  the 
strength  two  ordinary  men,  and  proud  of  his  strength, 
or,  rather,  taking  a  malicious  pleasure  in  exhibiting  it, 
he  would  never  brook  the  assistance  of  another  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duties  as  helmsman.  It  was  very 
dark.  Captain  Thims  was  on  the  quarter  deck, 
attending  to  the  report  of  soundings  from  the  man  in 
the  main  chains,  when  he  perceived  dimly  a  dark  ob 
ject  to  the  starboard,  which  he  took  for  a  rock. 

"  Hard  a-starboard !  hard  a-starboard !"  he  cried 
at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  was  the  hoarse  response,  and  the 
prow  turned  short,  and  plowed  directly  into,  instead 
of  away  from,  the  dark  object,  while  at  the  same  in 
stant,  from  larboard  mid-ships,  came  the  despairing 
cry — "  A  rock  !  a  rock !  we're  lost !"  But  we  were 
not  lost.  The  dark  object  proved  an  illusion ;  the 
danger  was  opposite.  The  grim  helmsman  had  saved 
us,  though  he  had  intended,  as  all  thought,  to  dash 


108  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

the  ship  upon  the  rock.  "Why  Captain  Thims  retained 
this  man  in  his  service  I  never  knew.  There  seemed 
a  bond  between  them,  like  the  fabled  bond  which 
secured  prospectively  to  His  Satanic  Majesty  the  souls 
of  men.  A  more  sincere,  deep-rooted,  infernal  ha 
tred  could  scarcely  exist  between  two  mortals,  than 
exhibited  itself  now  and  then  between  them.  Yet 
there  were  times  when  they  walked  arm  in  arm 
with  each  other,  but  as  we  might  suppose  embodied 
thunderbolts  to  walk  arm  in  arm.  On  such  occasions 
there  was  a  pallor  in  the  captain's  face,  and  a  most 
malignant  frown  on  the  face  of  the  other,  which  it 
was  frightful  to  behold.  They  were  sometimes  in  the 
cabin  by  themselves  for  hours;  and  at  such  times, 
those  who  were  near  heard  horrible,  hissing  words, 
and  grating  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  The  grim  giant 
would  accept  of  no  other  situation  than  that  of  com 
mon  sailor,  though  by  experience,  he  was  fully  ade 
quate  to  the  command  of  any  vessel  in  any  latitude, 
the  second  mate  said  one  day  in  my  hearing,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  it  was  so.  Altogether  it  was 

o 

quite  a  mysterious  affair,  and  gave  rise  to  much  rough 
speculation  among  the  superstitious  of  our  crew. 
Except  the  narrow  escape  at  the  Cape  there  was 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  109 

nothing  occurred  to  mar  or  relieve  the  quiet  mono 
tony  of  our  voyage,  and  we  cast  anchor  one  beautiful 
morning  at  sunrise,  in  the  port  of  Borneo — which 
was  the  first  point  of  destination. 

We  remained  there  nearly  two  months,  much  of 
the  time  idle,  waiting  for  something,  but  no  one  could 
tell  what,  for  all  the  freight  we  were  to  take  -on  there 
was  shipped  during  the  first  ten  days  of  our  stay.  It 
was  surmised,  and  quite  loudly  talked  of,  that  "  the 
Devil" — such  was  the  expressive  cognomen  by  which 
she  giant  sailor  was  known  among  us — had  a  hand  in 
the  unusual  delay.  How  far  this  surmise  was  correct, 
may  be  inferred  from  the  sequel. 

Finally,  after  the  long,  long,  and  most  tiresome  wait 
ing  for  what  turned  out  to  be  literally  nothing,  so  far 
as  I  could  see  or  learn,  the  welcome  order  to  weigh 
anchor  was  given.  "We  hastened  to  obey  it,  and  were 
soon  ploughing  away  under  full  sail  before  a  good 
breeze.  We  were  bound  thence  for  Manilla,  there  to 
complete  our  freight.  A  Spanish  family  had  taken 
passage  on  board  our  vessel — a  new  circumstance, 
somewhat  agreeably  disturbing  the  usual  routine  of 
my  previous  life.  It  was  a  family  of  six — the  father 
and  mother  middled-aged,  of  dignified  demeanor,  evi« 


110  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

dently  accustomed  from  childhood  to  the  careful  obser 
vance  of  all  the  little  decencies  of  life ;  a  daughter 
and  her  husband,  enjoying  the  first  raptures  of  the 
honeymoon, — and  well  did  those  raptures  become 
them; — a  younger  daughter  in  the  bud  of  maiden 
hood,  and  a  little  ruddy-cheeked  boy,  seven  or 
eight  years  old.  They  all  spoke  English  with  passa 
ble  fluency,  and  during  the  day-time  were  much  on 
deck,  conversing  with  the  captain  and  mates,  and  en 
joying  the  grateful  sea  breezes.  The  bride  attracted 
my  attention  particularly.  I  think  in  all  my  travels 
on  this  great  globe,  I  have  never  met  a  being  that  has 
superseded,  in  my  judgment,  that  gentle,  beaming 
creature.  Though  so  young  at  the  time  that  I  could 
only  receive  the  impression  without  second  thought, 
I  have  since  speculated  upon  it  seriously,  and  make 
my  statement  soberly.  It  was  not  so  much  owing  to 
the  regularity  of  her  features,  nor  the  melting  con 
tour  of  her  harmonious  form,  that  made  her  appear  so 
very  beautiful;  it  was  the  indescribable  "general 
effect,"  as  artists  say, — 'the  radiance  of  virgin  passion 
just  putting  forth  its  last,  ripest,  richest  beauties  un 
der  the  genial  influence  of  kindred  passion  bestowed 
without  reserve.  The  groom  was  a  fit  companion  to 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       Ill 

her: — tall,  with  a  noble  and  graceful  bearing,  he,  too, 
was  more  graceful,  more  nobly  beautiful  for  the  pas 
sion  that  absorbed  him.  The  younger  daughter  was  a 
sweet,  lovable  girl,  full  of  honest  curiosity,  which  she 
so  artlessly  sought  to  gratify  that  she  stood  in  con 
stant  need  of  check  from  her  parents.  She  went  about 
talking  with  everybody,  asking  a  great  many  unne 
cessary,  and  sometimes  unanswerable  questions,  yet 
expressing  surprise  so  ingenuously,  followed  with  such 
a  sweet,  playful  smile,  that  it  seemed  a  delightful 
privilege  to  answer  her.  She  seemed  at  first  to  con 
fine  her  investigations  to  the  medium  of  the  older  sail 
ors  ;  but  they  soon  took  such  a  promiscuous  character 
that  I  began  to  fear  an  approach.  You  must  bear 
in  mind  that  1  was  quite  young  then  ;  and  I  was  more 
over  very  bashful  in  the  presence  of  the  other  sex. 
In  this  case  particularly  so,  as  she  walked  about  in 
my  eyes  almost  an  angel.  My  fears  harrowed  me  so 
much  that  I  became  quite  nervous,  which  illy  pre 
pared  me  for  what  actually  happened.  I  was  stand 
ing  near  Senk,  to  whom  she  was  addressing  some 
questions,  importing  a  desire  to  know  more  explicitly 
the  process  of  navigation  by  night.  Having  received 
the  answers  she  desired,  with  the  usual  remunerating 


112  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

smile,  she  turned  her  beaming  face  full  on  me,  and 
said,  as  though  she  hardly  anticipated  an  answer, 
"  Do  you  like  to  be  a  sailor  ?"  If  she  did  not  expect 
reply,  she  was  not  disappointed,  for  in  my  confusion 
I  could  not  utter  a  word.  Seeming  to  take  compas 
sion  upon  my  disturbed  condition,  she  passed  on,  but 
presently  returned,  asking  me,  with  a  serious  look,  if  I 
had  any  father  and  mother.  During  the  minute  that 
had  elapsed,  the  first  upheaval  had  subsided,  and  I 
quite  calmly  told  her  I  had,  and  a  sister,  too,  like  her, 
far  off  in  America.  To  this  she  replied,  asking  where 
America  was, — then  suddenly  recollecting,  she  pro 
ceeded  to  answer  herself,  and  went  on  to  ask  many 
questions  about  my  home,  which  I  answered  very 
elaborately,  and  with  much  emotion.  Then  she  told 
me  about  her  home  in  Borneo ;  and  she  was  yet  tell 
ing  me  in  a  very  animated  manner  about  the  garden 
she  had  there,  when  her  mother  called  her,  and  they 
went  below. 

Gentlemen,  I  love  the  sunshine,  and  I  approach 
darkness  unwillingly.  I  love  to  recall  that  beam 
which  for  a  brief  space  cheered  my  wandering  boy 
hood  ;  but  the  recollection  of  the  darknes,  that 
followed,  has  a  deep  shadow  of  terror  to  me,  though 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAiNMEio1  113 


a  quarter  of  a  century  has  passed  since  its  awful 
folds  blotted  from  the  world,  so  much  beauty  and 
rapturous  hope,  so  much  rough,  yet  sterling  integrity, 
and  real,  honest  humanity.  I  would  spare  your 
hearts  the  recital,  but  you  have  required  a  story  of 
me,  and  this  is  a  part  of  it,  and  must  be  told. 

It  was  a  breezy  evening  in  October,  cool  for  that 
latitude.  The  day  had  closed  with  a  doubtful  sky. 
Big,  detached  clouds  that  seemed  to  have  no  water 
in  them,  yet  were  very  thick  and  black,  came,  and 
passed  on  to  the  South  steadily,  and  somewhat 
rapidly.  We  had  been  out  from  Borneo  six  days.  The 
winds  having  been  adverse,  we  had  made  slow  pro 
gress,  and  were  on  that  evening  making  a  tack  which 
was  carrying  us  off  the  Eastern  shore  of  Palawau. 
There  was  no  land  in  sight.  The  sea  was  slightly 
ruffled,  but  only  so  much  as  to  give  a  pleasant  motion 
to  the  vessel,  and  the  barometer  indicating  no  change 
of  weather  for  the  present,  a  general  quiet  pervaded 
the  whole  ship's  company.  The  larboard  watch,  to 
which  I  belonged,  was  on  duty.  There  being  no  need 
of  active  labor,  the  sailors  gathered  in  groups,  listen 
ing  to  each  other's  yarns,  many  times  told  before,  yet 
always  interesting  to  those  who  told  them,  ajid  tc 


114:  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

those  who  listened,  of  course.  The  passengers  had 
come  on  deck  just  before  sunset,  and  still  remained, 
forming  a  group  on  the  quarter-deck,  with  Captain 
Thims  and  the  first  mate.  Not  having  been  long 
enough  at  sea  to  be  interested  in  a  twice-told  tale,  I 
separated  from  my  companions,  and  being  perhaps 
attracted  somewhat,  by  the  sweet  Castilian  muchacha 
who  had  so  innocently  entranced  me,  I  drew  near 
to  the  last-mentioned  group.  They  were  talking  of 
the  dangers  of  navigation.  The  father  of  my  little 
beauty  was  telling  a  story,  how,  in  his  boyhood,  he 
drifted  out  to  sea  with  the  tide  in  an  open  boat,  and 
how,  having  been  picked  up  when  almost  dead,  by  a 
brig,  he  went  on  a  voyage  of  six  months,  returning 
home  to  his  parents,  who  supposed  him  dead.  This 
reminded  Captain  Thims  of  one  similar,  that  had  an 
excellent  joke  in  it,  which  he  rehearsed  with  such  a 
hearty  joviality,  that  we  laughed  until  we  were  out 
of  breath,  and  then  laughed  again  purely  on  his 
account.  We  had  scarcely  done  laughing,  when  the 
little  ruddy-cheeked  boy,  whom  I  had  noticed  for 
some  time  back,  standing  a  short  distance  apart  from 
the  company,  looking  intently,  and  rather  wildly,  all 
along  the  Eastern  horizon,  came  running  up  to  his 


TBAVELLEKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       115 

mother,  and  laying  his  head  in  her  lap,  began  to 
cry. 

"What's  the  matter,  my  child?"  inquired  the 
mother,  with  much  solicitude. 

"My  little  son,  what  ails  you?"  joined  in  the 
father.  •  "Hush!  hush!  I'm  ashamed  of  you." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  my  little  boy  ?"  again 
inquired  the.  mother,  feeling  him  shudder,  as  she 
remarked  aside.  But  the  little  fellow  cried  on,  bury 
ing  his  head  deeper  in  his  mother's  lap. 

"What  ails  the  child?  This  is  quite  unusual," 
remarked  the  father,  stepping  forward  to  raise  him 
up.  But  he  clung  frantically  to  his  mother,  crying  as 
if-  in  real  despair. — "  Don't  let  them  take  me — don't, 
mother !" 

"  Who  ?  Why,  my  love,  don't  you  want  to  come 
to  father?" 

The  tender,  familiar  voice  seemed  to  soothe  him  a 
little,  and,  looking  anxiously  around,  he  finally  gave 
himself  up  to  his  father,  in  whose  arms  he  soon  fell 
asleep. 

"  Mind  I  tell  ye  there's  bloody  breakers  ahead,  or 
/  never  seen  a  capstan." 

We  looked  around.     It  was   an  old  sailor,  grey 


116  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

headed  and  scarred, — noted  on  board  for  his  extreme 
taciturnity  and  dullness ;  and  as  he  stood  there 
then,  his  face  lit  up  as  with  a  flash  of  internal  light 
slowly  fading,  a  thrill  of  terror  sent  the  blood  from 
the  face  of  every  one  who  heard  him.  Captain 
Thims  appeared  peculiarly  agitated,  rising  hurriedly 
and  without  ceremony  going  below.  The  family  soon 
followed  him,  descending  reluctantly  and  whispering 
among  themselves.  As  I  walked  away  towards  the 
forecastle,  I  was  somehow  vaguely  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  "the  Devil" — who,  being  of  the  starboard 
watch,  was  below  in  his  hammock,  might  explain  the 
mysterious  phenomena  I  had  just  witnessed.  It  was, 
however,  but  the  passing  shadow  of  a  thought,  and 
I  joined  the  knot  of  sailors  nearest  at  hand,  listening 
to  what  was  being  said.  I  found  that  the  circum 
stance  of  the  child's  fright  on  the  quarter-deck  had 
attracted  their  attention,  and  had  given  rise  to  stories 
of  the  most  bloody  and  extravagant  character,  con 
cerning  pirates,  particularly  of  the  Sooloo  pirates,  in 
whose  seas  we  were  then  sailing.  I  listened  awhile, 
and  then  went  on,  visiting  the  other  groups  in  suc 
cession.  I  found  the  same  spirit  prevailing,  blood 
and  battles  being  the  burden  of  every  tale.  At 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  117 

»ength  I  grew  weary  and  sick  at  the  recitals,  which 
to  keep  up  the  excitement  became  ridiculously 
extravagant,  and  went  aft  by  myself  alone,  gazing  off 
into  the  sky — now  nearly  overcast  with  heavy,  swift- 
moving  clouds — feeling  very  gloomy  indeed.  It  was 
ten  o'clock ;  I  felt  uneasy  and  lonely,  and  thirsting 
for  some  sort  of  social  diversion,  I  bethought  me  of 
the  helmsman,  who  had  a  few  minutes  before  taken 
his  post — a  burly,  broad-faced,  good-natured  fellow,  to 
whom  I  owed  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  having  once 
saved  my  life.  Being  near  the  wheelhouse,  I  entered 
noiselessly.  He  was  standing  fixedly  at  his  post, 
eyeing  abstractedly  the  huge  compass  before  him. 
He  did  not  notice  me  when  I  came  in,  and  stood 
watching  a  minute  or  more  before  he  seemed  con 
scious  of  my  presence.  When  he  did,  he  started 
with  a  great,  blank  look  of  surprise — "  Heh !  lad  ! 
It's  you?  Is  it  dark  out  ?  Yes,  by  the  gods !"  he  con 
tinued,  looking  out  earnestly  ;  "  dark  as  the  hold  of 
a  slaver.  Damme !  but  I  wish  we  had  a  moon 
to-night.  'Where's  the  captain,  lad  ?" 

"  He  is  below,"  said  I.  "  Went  below  in  a  hurry, 
some  time  ago — two  or  three  hours,  perhaps — and 
hasn't  been  up  since." 


118  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

"  What's  that  ?    Ah  !  I  mind  me  now.    When  the 
little  boy  was  scart  so." 

"  Yes,"    I    affirmed ;     continuing,    "  that    was    a 
curious  affair,"   and  was    going  to  say  something 
more,  when  he  broke  in  musingly,   "  Quite  nat'ral, 
quite  nat'ral.     I've  seen  that  same  afore,"  and  looked 
again  abstractedly  at  the  compass.     Again  I  contem 
plated  him  a  minute  or  more.     He  seemed  uncon 
scious  of  any  one  near  him.    This  surprised  me. 
Abstraction    was    something    quite    foreign    to    his 
nature ;  he  was  always  so  bright  and  full  of  hearti 
ness  and  redundant  humor,  that  I  knew  now  some 
thing  v.ery  unusual  weighed  upon  him.     While  I  was 
looking    at    him,    getting    rapidly    back — in    part 
through  sympathy — to  my  former  gloom,  he  raised 
his  head  slowly,  and  gazing  rather  vacantly  at  me, 
said  in  a  low  voice — "Boy  that's  very  serious   to 
think   on.     It    makes  me   very  melancholy.     D'ye 
know,  boy,  we're  in  dangerous  seas  ?    I  seen  a  hulk 
in  Borneo  this  day  week  that  told  a  tale !     If  ye'd  a 
seen  the  blood,  dark  stains  o'  blood,  boy,  ye'd  not 
stood  so  quietly  as  ye  do  now.     Them  d — d  Sooloos 
make  clean  work  wi'  life,  boy,  but  dirty  work  wi' 
the  body  o'  in  mi."    After  half  a  minute  he  continued, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  119 

"  Will  ye  go  below,  and  tell  Captain  Thims  to  come 
to  this  wheel-house  directly?"  As  I  passed  along 
towards  the  companion-way  to  execute  the  order,  I 
saw  the  old,  grey-headed,  scarred  sailor  scouring 
with  desperate  industry  an  old  scimitar.  He  was 
murmuring  to  himself;  and  as  I  passed  close  by  him, 
I  caught  the  words,  "pirates" — "morning" — "all 
dead."  As  I  crept  down  to  find  the  captain,  I 
noticed  that  no  lamp  had  been  lit  below,  a  thing  that 
had  never  before  happened  within  my  sea-faring 
experience.  For  some  foolish  cause  this  circum 
stance  affected  me  very  much.  I  felt  for  the  first 
time  afraid.  An  undefined  sense  of  something  awful 
impending  stole  over  me. 

Making  my  way  blunderingly  to  the  captain's 
room,  I  boldly  entered.  He  was  deeply  engaged 
with  a  sea-chart,  and  had  lost  all  traces  of  agitation. 
I  communicated  the  helmsman's  request,  mentioning 
his  name.  "  Why,  what  ails  Bill  to-night  ?"  he 
replied  pleasantly.  "He's  not  apt  to  have  bug 
bears."  He  continued,  rising,  "I'll  attend  to  his 
case.  Go  back  to  your  duty."  There  were  signs  of 
agitation  in  his  manner  as  he  followed  me  out,  which 
I  partook  of  largely  as  I  followed  him  along  the  dark 


120  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

way,  now  more  light  by  reason  of  a  small  lantern  he 
carried,  up  to  the  deck.  Surmising  that  the  meeting 
in  the  wheel-house  would  have  something  to  do  with 
the  cause  of  the  great  fear  that  had  fallen  upon  me, 
I  approached  and  looked  in  from  a  little  distance. 
They  stood  for  some  minutes  in  close  conversation, 
the  captain  assuming  a  laughing  indifference,  the 
sailor  evidently  painfully  serious.  At  length  Cap 
tain  Thims  turned  on  his  heel,  and  was  coming  out. 
Bill's  voice  took  a  higher  pitch,  and  I  caught  the 
words.  "  Ye'd  better  keep  him  from  the  wheel. 
]STow  I  tell  ye,  ye  wrong  us  all  by  not  doing  as  I  tell 

ye." 

"Shame  on  you,  Bill,"  returned  the  captain. 
"You're  unreasonable.  That  was  purely  acci 
dental." 

"  Well,  sir,  ye're  commander.  The  ship's  your'n, 
but  the  lives  of  us  all  are  not  your'n.  But  you  and  I 
can't  agree.  It  must  go  as  you  say."  The  captain 
stepped  back,  and  patting  him  on  the  shoulder, 
assured  him  it  was  an  idle  whim,  and  whirling, 
hurriedly  left  the  spot,  yet  not  so  quickly  but  that 
my  sharpened  vision  detected  an  unusual  nervousness 
in  Ms  step,  and  a  pallor  in  his  countenance.  "  Well, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  121 

Bill,"  ejaculated  I  with  a  long  respiration,  looking  in 
at  door. 

"  Boy,"  he  answered,  "  come  in,  I  want  to  talk  to 

you." 

I  obeyed,  and  in  a  whisper  he  entered  upon  a 
detail  of  what  possessed  him,  the  substance  of  which 
was,  that  we  were  in  a  dangerous  situation :  that  he 
had  a  deadly  fear  of  '  the  Devil,'  heightened  by  the 
recollection  of  the  incident  at  the  Cape ;  that  his  trick 
at  the  wheel  would  come  off  between  two  and  four 
in  the  morning,  as  he  was  informed  ;  he  wouldn't  say 
just  what  he  thought ;  he  blamed  Captain  Thims ; 
didn't  know  as  Captain  Thims  could  help  it ;  and 
ended  by  wishing  most  heartily  we  had  a  moon.  I 
knew  his  experience  and  his  good  sense,  and  his  re 
marks  multiplied  my  fears,  so  that  I  was  almost  afraid 
to  leave  him.  But  I  summoned  courage  enough  and 
went  forward,  joining  the  rest.  They  had  ceased 
telling  stories,  and  were  ominously  silent.  I  sought 
out  Senk,  and  sitting  down  close  to  him,  experienced 
a  feeling  of  safety  quite  soothing,  until  he,  turning 
suddenly  upon  me,  said  in  an  emphatic  whisper, 
"Phil,  I  am  afraid."  This  roused  my  ghastly  fears 
to  such  an  extent,  that  I  believe  I  should  have  gone 

6 


122  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

to  my  hammock  against  orders,  hoping  for  relief 
there,  had  not  the  announcement  that  it  was  mid 
night  given  us  all  permission  to  go. 

I  went  below  with  the  rest  and  turned  in.  At 
first  I  could  not  sleep.  My  fears  took  bodily  shapes. 
Red  fires  gleaming  from  the  basements  of  massive 
buildings — creeping  fires  that  no  one  could  quench, 
making  their  insidious  way  to  powder  magazines ; 
hairy,  black,  grim  fiends  in  human  form  sneaking 
noiselessly  along,  and  stabbing  up  beneath  our  ham 
mocks  ;  shrinking  females  frantically  climbing  the 
shrouds,  and,  pursued  by  the  ferocious  monsters, 
plunging  from  the  yards  into  the  dark  sea.  Thus 
was  I  assailed.  Fancying  that  I  heard  something,  I 
started  up  and  listened.  An  unusual  quiet  prevailed. 
The  most  inveterate  snorer  gave  not  so  much  as  a 
snort  to  remind  one  of  his  existence.  Yet  they  were 
all  in  their  berths.  I  heard  one  of  them  groan.  1 
iay  down  again,  and  again  my  fears  took  bodily 
shapes.  I  was  in  an  open  boat  at  sea,  out  of  sight  of 
land.  The  sea  was  smoother  than  I  had  ever  seen  it 
before.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  wind  :  so  still  it 
was,  that  it  hardly  seemed  there  was  any  atmosphere 
at  all,  and  yet  I  was  borne  rapidly  along,  or,  sta- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTEETAINMEKT.  123 

tionar y  myself,  the  sea  moved — I  knew  not  nor  cared ; 
something  of  Tital  and  vast  importance  hung  upon 
me  it  seemed.  First,  it  was  the  pretty  Castilian 
maiden..  I  tried  in  the  dim  horizon  to  see  her.  I 
looked,  and  looked  until  I  saw  her.  She  was  in  the 
air  floating  like  a  gossamer.  She  waved  her  hands 
as  if  keeping  time  to  some  blissful  cadence.  She 
swayed,  and  swam,  and  danced  with  airy  leaps 
far  before  me.  Now,  I  could  not  see  her  face.  The 
hands  were  gone ;  no,  there  was  one  remaining.  Its 
wavy  motion  was  gone.  It  writhed.  Her  face  turned 
towards  me.  The  palor  and  ghastliness  of  death 
were  there.  It  was  to  save  her  life  that  I  was  sweep 
ing  madly  along.  And  now  it  was  distinctly  the  sea 
that  moved.  The  foam  at  the  prow  of  my  boat  was 
gone,  and  I  was  being  borne  rapidly  away!  The 
w^hite  hand  beckoned,  beckoned — despair  was  in  the 
tremor  of  its  fingers,  but  I  could  not  come. 

Then  I  was  far  awa;f.  The  sea  narrowed — became 
a  river  narrowing.  Beautiful  shores  smiled  upon  me. 
Then  one  continuous  city  lined  them.  Majestic 
castles ;  hanging-gardens  watered  by  silvery  foun 
tains  ;  heaven-reaching  spires  in  endless  profusion 
met  my  eye  on  either  side ;  yet  there  was  a  hue  of 


124:  GEEEN   MOUNTAIN 

blood  about  it  all  that  terrified  me.  The  river  nar 
rowed — narrowed,  became  a  creek.  The  city  disap 
peared.  I  was  on  land,  standing  by  a  battered  hulk. 
There  were  blood  stains  upon  it,  and  men  sweaty  and 
worn  with  toil  were  striving  to  wash  them  off.  Upon 
that  hulk  stood  the  form  of  the  gigantic  sailor,  bear 
ing  the  same  expression  of  hot  vengeance  I  had  often 
seen.  I  beheld  him  awe-stricken.  A  sweet,  soft 
voice  in  the  air  said  "  Yanish !"  He  smote  his 
breast,  and  the  blood-shot,  gleaming  eyes  left  their 
sockets ;  the  long  matted  hair  passed  off  in  shreds 
upon  the  passing  wind,  and  his  giant  bulk  fell  a  mass 
of  rattling  bones  to  the  ground. 

Again  I  was  in  the  open  sea,  still  bent  upon  my 
mission,  which  grew  more  important  as  it  grew  more 
vague  and  objectless.  My  father  and  mother  were 
with  me.  A  single  red  light  gleamed  in  the  cloudy 
sky.  It  became  brighter  and  brighter.  It  was  tho 
face  of  the  beautiful  bride.  •  She  smiled  upon  us, 
and  waved  her  hand  away  as  if  to  some  distant  land 
whither  she  was  going,  and  a  clear,  angelic  voice 
came  over  the  sea — "  I  am  on  earth  no  more," — "  No 
more,"  was  the  soft  echo  that  sank  sleeping  upon  the 
distant  waves; 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  125 

I  turned  around.  My  father  and  mother  were 
gone.  The  sea  and  cloudy  sky  were  gone.  I  was 
upon  a  mountain  top — upon  a  crag  that  overhung  a 
beautiful  valley  far,  far  down.  In  that  valley  were 
men  struggling  in  mortal  combat.  Among  them 
was  Captain  Thims,  armed  to  the  teeth.  I  saw  him 
fall.  A  bloody  knils  grasped  by  a  giant  hand — a 
bloody  face  flashed  in  the  sun.  It  was  a  face  that  I 
knew — the  face  of  the  grim  sailor.  "  You  are  a 
murderer,"  I  shouted.  In  deafening  tones  my  voice 
pealed  down  the  mountain  side.  A  thousand  echoes 
caught  it  up,  and  rung  it  far,  far  away,  until  the 
earth  shook  as  with  the  roll  of  distant  thunder. 
Hark  !  It  has  become  suddenly  still — dark  and  still. 
A  hand  is  on  mine.  I  start  as  though  stung  by  a 
serpent. 

"  What !  boy,  ye  afraid  ?"  Pshaw !  I  had  been 
sleeping.  "  Bill,"  said  I  in  a  whisper,  for  he  whis 
pered,  "did  it  thunder  just  now?" 

"  "No.  I  guess  ye  must  a-heard  '  the  Devil '  taking 
his  place  at  the  wheel.  It  has  been  mighty  still 
otherwise,  I  tell  ye.  Boy,  I  do  wish  'twas  morning. 
Boy,  I  have  a  plan.  Senk  and  me  has  been  talking 
it  over.  "We  can't  neither  of  us  sleep,  and  we're 


126  GREKN    MOUNTAIN 

going  slily  on  deck,  to  watch  a  little,  you  know. 
Wouldn't  ye  go  along?"  "  Yes,  lad,"  put  in  Senk, 
hoarsely  whispering,  "  come  along."  I  needed  no 
urging.  We  went  together  on  deck,  taking  up  our 
position  on  the  forecastle.  Senk,  experienced  and 
sagacious,  noticed  at  once,  that  the  wind  was  from  a 
new  quarter.  He  communicated  the  fact  to  Bill,  who 
thought  it  very  singular,  as  we  were  still  on  the  same 
tack  he  knew.  The  wind  was  directly  astern.  Possi 
bly  it  had  changed.  Nothing  more  was  said  on  the 
subject  for  a  while.  Senk  had  had  a  dream,  very 
extravagant,  very  disastrous.  He  told  it  to  us  elabo 
rately  in  a  whisper,  which  became  subvocal  at 
emphatic  passages.  Then  I  told  mine.  Between  the 
two  dreams,  nearly  an  hour  passed.  After  my  dream 
was  told,  we  were  silent.  "It's  strange  Mr.  Dory 
don't  notice  this  change  in  the  wind.  He  must  be 
asleep,"  remarked  Senk.  "  It  is  strange,"  replied 
Bill,  and  there  was  silence  ac^ain.  The  weight  of  the 

J  O  O 

night  began  to  show  itself  upon  Senk.  He  was  nodd 
ing  ;  and  a  peculiar  indifference  was  creeping  upon 
me,  when  a  whisper — with  a  deep  ominous  tone 
which  stopped  my  heart  dead  still  for  an  instant — 
said,  "We're  off  our  course,,  or  the  north  star  haa 


TRAY  ELLEES'    ENTERTAINMENT.  127 

changed  place."  I  looked  in  the  direction  Bill's 
finger  was  pointing.  A  rent  in  the  clouds  showed  a 
patch  of  sky.  There  it  was,  the  north  star  right  off 
astern.  At  the  same  time  there  was  a  movement 
on  the  quarter.  "  What  are  you  about  there  at  the 
wheel,  asleep  ?"  shouted  the  mate,  and  then  proceeded 
to  order  a  put  about,  concluding  \vith  a  hope  that  he 
at  the  helm,  would  keep  awake.  "Ay,  ay,  sir!" — • 
wide  awake  enough,  we  thought.  The  clouds  closed 
again. — Had  an  angel  opened  them  that  we  might 
see  ? — Still  the  wind  continued  from  the  same 
quarter.  "  Passing  strange  Mr.  Dory  don't  notice  it," 
reflected  Senk.  But  Mr.  Dory  was  a  dull,  amiable 
man,  and  did  not  notice  it.  "  Captain  Thims  must 
know  this "  said  Bill,  agitated,  though  determined ; 
"  and  I'll  go  and  tell  him  now."  "We  had  no 
objection,  and  he  started.  Just  as  he  reached  the  coin* 
panion-way  he  was  hailed  by  Mr.  Dory.  ' "  Halloa  ! 
larboard,  what  you  doing  here?"  Then  followed  •  a 
silence,  broken  to  Senk  and  me  by  Bill  and  Mr. 
Dory  coming  forward  in  close,  subdued  conversation. 
I  was  listening,  when  Senk  laid  his  hand,  which 
trembled,  upon  my  arm,  and  speaking  aloud,  told 
me  to  look  forward,  out  on  the  sea.  Far  out  on  the 


128  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

distant  horizon,  directly  in  our  course,  I  saw  a  blood- 
red  ligkt — small  yet  distinct — like  the  single  red 
light  of  my  dream.  Mr.  Dory  saw  it,  Bill  saw  it, 
and  we  stood  looking  intently  at  it  for  half  a  minute, 
perhaps  when  it  disappeared. 

"  Peace,  and  good  will  to  men,  I  say  ;  for  the  king 
dom  of  Heaven  is  at  hand  to  some  of  us,  that's 
fixed,"  commented  Senk. 

"  I  believe  you,  Bill,"  said  Mr.  Dory.  "  We  have 
a  traitor  here.  Do  you  keep  watch  here,  and  I'll 
attend  to  him."  Summoning  half  a  dozen  men  to 
his  assistance,  Mr.  Dory  proceeded  without  noise  to 
the  wheelhouse.  I  attended  them.  We  halted  near, 
where  we  could  distinctly  see  the  object  of  our  suspi 
cions.  His  strong  hands  were  firm  on  the  wheel,  hig 
dark,  lowering  gaze  fiercely  directed  towards  the 
point  where  the  light  had  appeared.  The  mate 
entered  and  touched  his  shoulder.  He  started,  yet 
seeing  who  it  was,  sneered  most  scornfully,  and 
turned  away.  "  Where  are  you  driving  us  to  ?" 
firmly  demanded  Mr.  Dory.  "  To  IT — 1,"  was  the 
contemptuous  reply.  "  Well,  sir,  you  can  leave  this 
wheel, — the  sooner  the  better."  "  Have  you  orders 
from  the  captain  ?"  coolly  inquired  the  other. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTEKTAHSTMENT.  129 

"That  happens  to  be  none  of  your  business," 
retorted  the  mate. 

"  "Well,  sir,  I  shan't  U<we  without  orders  from 
him." 

""We'll  help  you,"  quietly  responded  Mr.  Dory, 
and  ordered  the  men  to  arrest  him.  This  was 
achieved  through  much  struggling,  and  hard  words 
and  the  giant  was  carried  below. 

Another  man  was  appointed  to  the  wheel;  the 
light  at  the  prow  was  extinguished,  and  the  one  in 
the  wheel-house  carefully  screened.  Our  course  was 
resumed,  bearing  away  from  the  portentous  light, 
which  had  again  appeared,  larger,  apparently 
nearer. 

"  Where  is  the  second  mate  of  this  vessel  ?"  sound 
ed  harshly  through  the  darkness.  It  was  the  voice  of 
Captain  Thims,  scarcely  recognizable  for  its  hoarse 
ness  and  depth.  There  was  no  answer.  "  Is  any  one 
at  the  wheel  ?"  he  demanded,  walking  that  way.  ]STo 
answer.  Coming  to  the  wheel-house,  he  said  with  a 
fierceness  strange  indeed  for  him,  addressing  the 

o  /  o 

helmsman,  "  Scoundrel !  I'll  stab  you  to  death  if  you 
don't  tell  me  what  this  means  this  instant.  I'll  not 
be  fooled  with  this  way.  Where's  the  second  mate" 


130  GRKKK    MOUNTAIN 

tell  me,  d — n  you  !   quick,   or  I'll  blow  out    your 

brains."     The  man,  frightened  at  the  dreadful  anger 

f 

which  possessed  the  Captain,  confusedly  told  him  the 

state  of  things. 

"Poor  devil!"  ejaculated  Captain  Thims,  "he 
don't  know  what  lie  has  done.  "Where  is  he — the 
mate  ?" 

"  Look  yonder,  will  you,"  said  the  mate,  now  at 
his  side,  and  pointing  to  the  light.  Captain  Thims 
looked ;  but  the  light  had  disappeared,  and  he  saw  it 
not.  "  Do  you  know  what  you  are  about,  you  ras 
cal  ?"  said  he  to  Mr.  Dory.  "  Recall  that  man 
instantly,  and  put  him  at  the  wheel." 

"  I  beg  of  you,  Captain  Thims,  to  consider" 

"Not  one  word,  sir,  if  you  will  not  drive  me  to  ex 
tremities,"  interrupted  the  captain,  making  a  gesture 
towards  the  pistol  in  his  breast  pocket.  Astounded 
at  the  unaccountable  conduct  of  Captain  Thims,  the 
mate  recalled  'the  Devil,'  and  placed  him  at  the 
wheel.  This  done,  he  suggested  to  Captain  Thims 
the  necessity  of  arming  the  crew.  "  All  fudge," 
sneered  the  captain.  "  If  you  are  afraid,  go  below, 
the  whole  of  you.  I'll  take  charge  of  the  vessel  till 
morning." 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  131 

Though  this  was  said  in  an  ironical  manner,  we 
took  him  at  his  word  by  common  consent,  and 
went  below.  The  larboard  watch  were  apprised 
of  what  was  going  on,  and  getting  up,  we  all  proceed 
ed  to  the  armory,  where  each  procured  a  weapon. 
The  first  mate  proposed  going  on  deck.  But  Mr. 
Dory,  knowing  the  consequences,  dissuaded  him.  "A 
few  minutes  more,  and  we  shall  be  called  on  deck! 
I  fear  resistance  will  be  vain.  This  is  to  my  mind 
but  the  consummation  of  a  deep  plot,  which  so  far 
has  had  no  hindrance.  I  do  not  implicate  Captain 
Thims ;  but  I  do  think  he  is  deceived — or  perhaps 
he  can't  help  it.  His  conduct  is  strange,  unaccounta 
ble.  But  let  us  fight  like  men.  The  case  is  by  no 
means  hopeless."  Thus  talked  Mr.  Dory  in  a  whis 
per,  the  last  two  remarks  being  spoken  aloud.  Then 
Mr.  Eemy,  the  first  mate,  offered  some  remarks.  He 
was  yet  speaking  when  the  sharp  report  of  a  pistol 
was  heard,  and  the  sound  of  quick,  heavy  footsteps 
overhead.  "  On,  men  !  Follow  me  !"  shouted  Mr. 
Dory,  unsheathing  his  sword,  and  rushing  up  the 
companion-way.  Desperately  we  struggled  up. 
Three  succeeded  in  reaching  the  deck.  Establishing 
a  footing  there,  they  guarded  the  advent  of  those  be 


132  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

hind.  I  was  the  fifth.  For  an  instant  I  was  appalled. 
Throngs  of  black,  ugly  fiends  were  pouring  over  the 
bulwarks  and  making  for  the  hatchway.  Despair 
made  me  brave,  and  I  sprang  upon  the  deck.  I  had 
just  time  to  see  the  reeling  form  of  Captain  Thims 
swaying  towards  us,  the  target  of  a  dozen  pikes,  when 
a  strong  blow  laid  me  senseless. 

I  must  have  remained  in  that  condition  several 
hours.  "When  I  recovered  consciousness  the  deck  was 
deserted.  All  was  still  about  the  ship.  It  was  broad 
daylight.  I  arose  with  difficulty  and  looked  around. 
The  first  object  of  which  I  got  a  distinct  idea,  was  the 
dead  body  of  Mr.  Dory.  I  thought  I  heard  a  noise  in 
the  wheel-house.  I  went  there,  hoping  to  find  some 
one  alive.  It  was  the  breathing  of  the  giant  sailor  had 
attracted  me.  He  was  lying  on  his  back,  a  loathsome 
object.  His  eyes  and  nose  had  been  shot  away,  appa 
rently  by  a  close  discharge.  Did  Captain  Thims  do 
this?  and  was  that  first  report  the  one  ?  So  I  thought, 
as  I  turned  away.  Dead  bodies  were  lying  thickly  all 
around.  The  conflict  had  been  bravely  sustained. 
Senk — the  good  Senk — was  among  the  dead ;  and 
Bill,  too,  and  Captain  Thims,  the  first  mate,  and 
many  more.  I  found  and  recognized  them  one  by 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  133 

one.  Yet  they  were  not  all  there.  The  strife  must 
have  been  continued  below,  thought  I,  and  approached 
the  hatchway  for  the  purpose  of  descending.  Sud 
denly  I  heard  steps  and  strange  sounds  below.  They 
approached.  "What  could  I  do  ?  Flight  was  absurd. 
I  had,  then,  been  left  for  dead.  The  fiends  were  yet 
on  board.  Fear  chained  me  to  the  spot.  In  a  few 
moments  a  huge,  flat,  bushy  head,  with  small  tiger 
eyes,  thick,  pug  nose,  and  monstrous  mouth,  showed 
itself.  It  contemplated  me  for  a  short  space,  with  a 
greedy  grin.  Another  moment  and  I  was  in  a  grasp 
of  iron.  My  hands  and  feet  were  quickly  tied,  and  I 
was  laid  on  my  back  to  await  the  caprice  of  my  captor. 

From  my  position  I  could  not  see  what  was  going 
on ;  but  from  what  I  could  hear,  I  concluded  the 
savages  were  plundering  the  ship  at  their  leisure.  I 
lay  perhaps  an  hour,  when  my  captor  came,  and  tak 
ing  me  up  as  he  would  have  taken  up  a  bundle  of 
merchandise,  handed  me  down  the  side  of  the  ship  to 
his  comrades,  who  stowed  me  away  among  some 
boxes  and  trunks,  and  left  me  to  myself. 

Imagining  death  could  not  be  very  immediate, 
I  gradually  gave  way  to.  the  stupor  which  sought 
possession  of  me,  and  fell  asleep.  The  effects  of 


134  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

several  causes  conspired  to  plunge  me  into  a  deep, 
dreamless  slumber,  in  which  I  remained  till  late  in  the 
afternoon.  I  awoke  to  find  myself  aboard  of  a  large, 
rough-hewn,  sort  of  an  ancient  galley.  It  had  one 
sail,  an  irregular  shaped  sheet,  intended  for  square, 
and  it  was  steered  by  means  of  a  long  oar.  There 
were  five  other  large  boats  like  the  one  I  was  on, 
besides  several  small  craft  manned  by  six  to  twelve 
men  each.  Their  course  seemed  to  be  southeast. 
On  board  the  concern  which  carried  me,  I  counted 
thirty  men — all  huge  and  muscular,  apparently 
picked.  There  was  no  deck — only  a  kind  of  cabin  in 
the  afterpart,  in  which  the  master  sat  enthroned  like 
a  monarch: — indeed,  he  was  king,  as  it  afterwards 
appeared, — chieftain  of  the  whole  swarm.  I  was  on 
board  the  admiral ! 

My  bonds  having  been  removed  during  my  sleep,  1 
was  free  to  walk,  and  scrutinize  as  inclination 
directed.  After  forming  an  idea  of  my  general  situa 
tion,  I  followed  up  my  investigations,  and  became 
quite  interested  in  the  phenomena  transpiring  around 
me.  The  hideous  forms  of  the  beings  that  peopled 
the  squadron  all  looked  pretty  much  alike,  differing 
only  in  degrees  of  hideousness.  Their  motions  were 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTKKTAINMENT.  135 

awkward,  and  clumsy  like  black  bears',  and  sly :— - 
everything  was  done  second-handed.  If  one  wished 
to  pick  his  nose,  for  instance,  he  would  put  up  his 
hand  and  scratch  the  backside  of  his  head,  and  then 
slide  his  hand  clandestinely  forward  under  his  chin, 
and  so  on,  up  to  his  nose,  dabbing  it  a  little,  and 
finally  making  a  gesture  with  the  hand  to  cover  the 
manoeuvre.  Their  language  was  inexpressible,  at 
least  it  seemed  so  literally.  Of  all  the  lingual  incon 
gruities  that  made  Babel  a  tower  of  nonsense,  I  think 
this  must  have  been  the  most  unconformable.  The 
act  of  speech  to  them  was  apparently  an  act  of  partial 
strangulation,  into  which  they  were  perseveringly 
plunging  and  recovering  from  doubtfully,  to  the  great 
distortion  of  the  countenance  and  of  the  whole  body. 
If  an  orator  had  existed  among  them,  I  think  the 
effect  of  his  elocution  must  have  depended  upon 
his  actual  death  by  strangulation,  and  a  syncope  of 
the  auditory  through  giving  applause. 

After  amusing  myself  for  a  time  with  contemplat 
ing  and  comparing,  I  became  sensible  of  a  great 
hunger  prowling  within.  I  approached  my  captor, 
whom  I  knew  by  a  deep  scar  in  his  forehead,  and 
asked  turn  for  food,  as  well  as  I  could  by  signs.  Dis- 


136  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

guising  the  act  with  a  feint  or  two,  he  fustively 
forth  from  a  bag  which  hung  before  him,  a  piece  of 
dried  meat,  and  gave  me.  In  my  hunger  I  ate  vora 
ciously,  not  noticing  until  I  came  to  the  last  morsel 
that  it  had  a  texture  and  flavor  entirely  new ;  and  I 
did  not  stop  to  think  of  it  then,  but  asked  him  for 
more.  He  lifted  up  the  leopard-skin  robe  that  was 
slung  loosely  over  him,  and  displaying  his  brawny 
thigh,  made  a  carving  motion  upon  it,  and  shook 
the  empty  bag.  How  was  I  to  understand  this?  To 
signify  he  had  no  more,  shaking  the  bag  would  have 
been  sufficient.  Why  carve  his  thigh  in  that  imagi 
nary  way?  The  idea  must  not  be  harbored.  I 
should  starve.  I  walked  away.  But  the  idea  clung 
to  me  like  a  repulsive  odor ;  it  impregnated  me  like 
a  drug,  deeper  and  deeper.  Dizzy,  nauseated,  I  went 
to  the  side  of  the  boat,  and  there  my  stomach 
promptly  performed  its  disagreeable  function.  I 
was  freed,  and  thankful.  Human  flesh!  Could  a 
Christian  conscience,  much  less  a  Christian  stomach, 
bear  such  aliment  ?  I  chose  starvation  rather. 

Quietly  and  beamingly  the  day  passed  on  its 
western  journey:  sadly  and  quietly  the  night  closed 
in.  As  the  last  soft  flush  of  evening  twilight  melted 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  137 

from  the  skirts  of  night,  a  sea-bird  went  wailing  into 
the  far  west.  The  sound  was  so  mournful  that  even 
the  grim  savages  looked  after  it,  and  at  each  other, 
soberly.  Oh  !  how  ^inexpressibly  mournful  it  was  to 
me  !  The  novelty  of  my  situation  had  diverted  me 
from  recalling  the  horrors  of  the  past  night.  Now 
they  came  back,  overwhelming  me  as  a  tide.  Could 
I  have  wept,  could  I  have  sighed,  it  might  have 
eased  my  heart ;  but  sighs  and  tears  were  a  mockery. 
I  felt  suffocated  with  the  burden.  I  thought  of  the 
sweet  picture  upon  which  my  soul  had  feasted  the 
evening  before  ;  of  the  little  boy's  fright ;  of  the  old 
sailor's  prophecy ;  of  my  dream,  and  the  smiling 
face  of  the  beautiful  bride  as  she  waved  her  lily 
hand,  and  of  her  prophetic  words ;  of  the  brave  men 
rushing  to  the  deck,  and  I  strove  to  imagine  the  ter 
rific  struggle  for  life  upon  that  deck,  slippery  with 
blood ;  of  the  descent  of  the  frightful  fiends,  after 
finishing  their  sanguine  work  above.  There  my 
mind  stopped ;  I  could  not  think  of  what  followed  ; 
but  the  vague  impression  dwelt  upon  me,  saddening 
me  almost  to  a  swoon.  I  grew  faint  and  stupid,  and 
sinking  down  among  the  boxes,  I  fell  into  another 
deep  sleep.  I  slept  soundly  until  morning,  waking, 


138  GEEEN    MOUNTAIN 

as  the  day  broke,  to  a  dream  of  home.  I  was  yet  in 
the  midst  of  it,  when  the  sun's  rays  flashing  over  the 
sea,  drove  the  soothing  visitant  from  me. 

As  the  morning  advanced,  I  happily  made  a  dis 
covery  of  a  chest  of  Christian  food,  which  had  been 
preserved  as  a  curiosity  I  suppose,  and  amused  the 
crew  by  eating  a  long  time  unreservedly  therefrom. 
My  breakfast  refreshed  me  so  much  that  I  felt  quite 
resigned  to  my  dubious  state.  The  day  passed 
dismally  and  monotonously,  and  another  night  came 
on.  A  brisk  northwest  breeze  set  in  at  sunset, 
blowing  steadily  until  near  midnight.  Towards 
morning  a  heavy  storm  passed  far  to  the  south,  flash 
ing  and  thundering  grandly,  and  by  daylight  the  sea 
around  us  ran  pretty  high.  One  of  the  boats 
capsized,  unloading  itself  very  promiscuously.  The 
living  part  of  the  cargo  was  saved,  but  the  balance 
was  lost.  The  sea,  however,  grew  calm  after  a  short 
time,  and  the  northwest  breeze  risino-  asrain,  the 

/  DO' 

squadron  went  on  its  way. 

About  three  o'clock  we  hove  in  sight  of  land.  A 
large,  red  flag  was  immediately  run  up  from  the 
admiral,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a  like  signal  appeared 
on  the  distant  shore ;  whereupon  a  general  strangu- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  139 

Cation  took  place,  ultimating  in  a  deep  howl  that  was 
awful  to  listen  to. 

Just  before  sunset  we  came  to  land,  a  most  dreary- 
looking  beach,  opening  up  into  an  uneven,  sterile 
prospect.  About  twenty  beasts  of  burden,  little 
larger  than  good-sized  dogs,  stood  ranged,  tails  sea 
ward,  waiting  for  booty.  While  the  vessels  were  being 
unloaded,  I  saw  one  package  which,  from  their  hand 
ling  it  very  carefully,  attracted  my  attention.  It  was 
a  long  wicker. basket  covered  with  white  cloth.  My 
curiosity  was  strangely  excited,  and  being  on  shore 
I  determined  to  know  what  it  was.  So  I  walked 
directly  to  it,  and  putting  my  hand  upon  the  top, 
presently  discovered  it  to  contain  something  living. 
Oh,  my  heart !  how  it  leapt !  I  conjectured  the  truth, 
Hastily  tearing  the  screen  away,  I  saw,  pale  and 
emaciated,  yet  conscious,  the  little  Spanish  maiden, 
dearest  of  all  whom  I  had  supposed  dead.  She 
recognized  me  at  once,  and  smiled,  putting  up  her 
hand  as  though  to  greet  me.  I  took  it,  overwhelmed 
with  the  tenderest  emotions. 

"  Is  there  none  but  you  ?"  she  asked  feebly.  I 
shook  my  head,  pressing  the  dear  little  hand 
fervently. 


140  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN' 

"  Will  they  kill  us  ?"  slie  asked  apprehensively. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  replied.  "  If  they  do  we  will 
die  together." 

She  pressed  my  hand  now  in  turn,  and  raised  her 
head  a  little,  as  though  to  kiss  rne,  or  for  me  to  kiss 
her.  I  did  not  stop  to  inquire,  but  getting  down  on  my 
knees,  pressed  my  lips  to  hers,  dizzy  with  emotion. 
Then  I  lifted  her  out  of  her  cradle,  as  I  would  have 
lifted  a  babe,  tenderly  assisting  her  to  her  feet,  and 
she  stood  leaning  upon  my  arm.  On  her  expressing 
a  desire  to  walk,  we  proceeded  together  a  short  dis 
tance  along  the  beach.  As  we  walked,  she  told  me. 
that  she  had  occupied  that  basket  ever  since  the 
morning  which  had  risen  upon  that  fearful  night, 
partaking  of  food  but  once,  though  they  had  offered 
it  to  her  many  times ;  she  could  not  eat,  she  was  so 
very  sad,  thinking  of  her  father  and  mother,  and 
little  brother  gone.  As  we  were  returning  she  asked 
my  name.  I  told  her. 

"Anne  is  my  English  name,"  she  said.  "You 
shall  be  my  brother,  Philip,  while  we  live.  If  they 
don't  kill  us,  we  will  run  away  from  these  ugly  men 
some  day,  and  go  home  to  Borneo,  and  you  shall  live 
with  me,  and  we  will  live  together  for  ever."  Poor 


TKAVELLEKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       14:1 

sailor  boy !  Without  protection  amidst  a  horde  of 
cannibals,  and  with  so  little  power  to  protect,  what  a 
charge  was  his  !  I  have  often  in  solitary  moments 
recalled  the  feelings  of  that  night,  and  wondered  at 
the  manliness  with  which  I  bore  up  against  des 
pair. 

After  unloading  their  boats,  the  savages,  except 
four,  returned  to  them,  and  drifted  off  with  the  tide 
just  ebbing.  The  four  who  remained  fell  assisting 
the  drivers,  and  before  it  was  entirely  dark  the  beasts 
of  burden  were  packed  and  ready  for  departure. 
They  deliberated  some  time  concerning  us.  Finally 
they  took  the  wicker  basket,  and  strapping  it  ingeni 
ously  to  one  of  the  animals,  lifted  Anne  up  carefully, 
and  placed  her  in  it.  Then  putting  the  rope,  which 
was  around  the  beast's  neck,  in  my  hand,  bade  me 
by  signs  to  lead  on,  which  I  did  most  willingly. 

The  guide,  or  director,  went  a  short  space  ahead, 
and  the  whole  cavalcade  followed  slowly. 

About  midnight  we  entered  a  low  dense  thicket, 
through  which  we  groped  for  some  time,  coming 
out  at  last  right  upon  a  little  huddle  of  rude  tents, 
which  looked  very  white  in  the  clear  moonlight. 
There  were  twenty-five,  perhaps  thirty  of  them— 


142  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

close  together,  the  openings  for  entrance  occurring  in 
every  possible  relative  position  to  each  other. 

Here  we  halted.  About  a  score  of  women,  and  as 
many  children,  were  immediately  present,  coming 
from  nowhere  that  I  could  see,  and  joined  eagerly  in 
unpacking  and  lugging  off  the  booty.  While  this 
was  going  on.  I  helped  Anne  to  dismount.  I  had 
hardly  accomplished  it  when  we  were  closely 
thronged  with  a  new  swarm  of  children.  They 
seemed  to  stand  in  no  sort  of  awe,  but  were  on  the 
contrary  most  impudently  curious — investigating  our 
persons  very  annoyingly.  This  we  resisted  gently 
at  first.  They  grew  furious;  and  one  of  them,  a 
squatty,  dwarfish-looking  thing,  struck  Anne  a  hard 
blow  on  her  arm.  Regardless  of  what  the  conse 
quences  might  be,  I  returned  the  blow  with  all  the 
force  I  could  muster,  and  it  was  a  hard  one,  I  assure 
you.  The  little  imp  turned  a  complete  summersault, 
and  lay  stretched  out  senseless.  This  summary  act 
Deemed  to  terrify  the  rest,  and  they  disappeared  like 
shadows.  The  next  visitation  was  the  women. 
Having  discharged  their  manual  duties,  they  came 
around  us,  and  at  once  entered  upon  an  examination. 
One  felt  my  arms  and  legs,  and  taking  my  hand, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  143 

pinched  up  the  ball  of  my  thumb  and  the  flesh  on 
the  side.  Then  looking  around  at  her  companions, 
she  made  a  motion  of  carving  the  flesh  off.  One  of 
them,  who  seemed  to  be  very  old,  and  whose  face  I 
saw  clearly  by  the  moonlight,  responded  to  the 
motion  with  a  grin,  while  the  saliva  drivelled  out  of 
her  mouth. 

I  was  glad  they  saw  no  such  enticement  in  Anne, 
and  I  was  also  glad  to  see  that  Anne  did  not  appre 
hend  the  import  of  what  was  going  on. 

The  examination,  afterwards  more  desultory,  con 
tinued  for  some  time.  When  it  was  done,  we  were 
led  around  through  various  windings,  through  two  or 
three  tents,  until  we  came  to  one  lower  and  more 
oblong  than  the  rest.  Into  this  we  were  pushed,  and 
the  opening  carefully  folded  after  us.  In  the  middle 
of  the  tent,  on  the  ground,  resting  in  an  iron  mortar, 
was  a  large  spermaceti  candle  burning.  By  the 
light  of  this,  we  discovered  two  piles  of  blankets,  one 
in  each  end  of  the  tent,  and  the  chest  of  food  from 
which  I  had  fed  while  on  board  the  boat.  After  par 
taking  from  the  chest,  we  retired  to  forget  in  sleep 
for  a  few  hours,  the  terrors  with  which  we  were  sur 
rounded. 


144:  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

* 

I  awoke  at  day-break ;  but  Anne  slept  on  quietly, 
and  I  sat  by  her  watching  her  slumbers.  As  I  sat 
looking  upon  her  placid  face,  my  mind  recurred  to 
our  situation,  and  I  speculated  by  turns  hopefully 
and  despondingly,  upon  our  immediate  destiny.  I 
thought  not  much,  and  cared  less  about  myself.  The 
sweet  creature  before  me  was  my  care.  They  would 
kill  us  no  doubt,  thought  I, — murder  us  as  cannibals 
ever  murder  their  victims.  But  I  knew  what  canni 
bals  were.  I  knew  they  would  not  kill  us  then — that 
day,  nor  that  week ;  perhaps  not  for  months.  "We 
were  not  then  fit  for  their  worse  than  hellish  repast. 
We  might  get  away  from  them.  If  not,  I  might  per 
suade  them  to  spare  Anne,  and  deliver  her  up  to 
her  friends,  representing  to  them  the  certainty  of 
their  reaping  thereby  large  sums  of  gold.  I  should 
have  learned  their  language,  so  as  to  tell  them  this. 
Thus  thinking  and  planning,  I  sat  watching  her  as 
she  slept.  After  a  while  her  sleep  was  less  quiet.  A 
vivid  dream  seemed  to  possess  her.  She  smiled.  Her 
eyelids  quivered  as  with  joy.  She  made  a  blind 
motion  with  her  hand,  stroking  tenderly  the  rough 
blanket,  and  smiled  again,  while  tears  oozed  forth, 
gathering  in  little  drops  upon  her  long  eyelashes, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT. 

JThen  a  deep  shadow  of  sadness  suddenly  darkened 
every  feature,  and  she  was  awake.  u  O,  Philip ! 
is  he  gone  ?"  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  deepest 
anguish. 

"  Who  ?"  I  asked,  almost  weeping  from  sympathy, 
so  wildly  pathetic  was  her  tone  and  manner. 

"Dear  little  brother.  Oh,  what  a  sweet  dream  I 
have  had!"  she  continued,  relapsing  into  the  memory 
of  it.  "  I  cannot  tell  it  to  you.  So  pretty  he  looked 
standing  by  me.  He  would  not  stay.  But  he  went 
away  quickly,  as  I  have  heard  my  mother  say  angels 
fly  away,  up  towards  the  sky,  so  quick  I  did  not  see 
where  he  went.  Is  it  morning,  Philip  ?" 

I  assured  her  it  was,  and  directly  brought  her 
something  to  eat. 

She  ate  a  little,  and  then  putting  the  unfinished 
morsel  back  into  my  hand,  and  covering  her  face,  she 
began  to  weep  most  bitterly.  I  soothed  her  as  well 
as  I  could,  asking  her  again  and  again  why  she  wept. 
"VYhen  she  had  recovered  her  voice,  she  told  me  that 
at  the  evening  meal  before  that  awful  night,  she  had 
shared  just  such  a  cake  with  her  little  brother.  Soon 
she  became  quite  calm.  Yet  the  incident  had  taken 
her  back  to  those  dreadful  scenes,  and  from  a  melan- 

1 


146  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

choly  interest  in  them,  I  suppose,  she  asked  me  to 
narrate  what  happened  to  ine  after  they  went  below 
to  retire.  This  I  did,  as  near  as  my  emotions  would 
allow.  When  I  had  finished,  I  in  turn  asked  her  to 
tell  what  befell  her.  "O,  Philip,  how  can  I  tell  you  ? 
It  is  so  dreadful,"  she  began,  shuddering.  "  But  I 
will  tell  you,  if  I  can,"  she  continued  after  a  pause. 
"  I  was  asleep  with  little  brother,  and  mother  and 
father  in  one  room.  In  another,  with  a  door  be 
tween,  was  sister  and  Carlos.  When  I  awoke,  father 
was  holding  the  door  :  mother  was  helping  him.  I 
was  frightened,  and  began  to  cry.  My  sister  then 
came  in,  and  a  little  while  after,  Carlos  went  to  help 
father.  He  said  they  had  done  trying  to  get  in  at 
his  door,  and  were  all  trying  to  get  in  there.  My 
sister  came  to  me,  and  put  her  arms  around  me,  and 
told  me  we  had  all  to  die  that  night,  and  told  me  to 
look  for  her  when  I  would  be  in  the  spirit  world.  I 
heard  dreadful  noises  outside, — men  swearing,  and 
saying  they  were  killed ;  and  snarling  noises  like 
tigers  and  lions  fighting  together.  Sister  looked  so 
pale  I  was  afraid  of  her.  Little  brother  awoke  and 
cried  just  as  he  did  that  evening.  He  cried  just  as 
he  did  then — '  Don't  let  them  take  me,  mother.'  I 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  147 

began  to  feel  brave  when  little  brother  cried,  and  I 
tried  to  hush  him.  Carlos  went  into  the  other  room 
for  his  sword.  "Wnen  he  came  back,  he  told  sister 
that  the  crew  seemed  to  be  all  dead,  and  now  he  and 
father  must  fight.  He  went  to'  the  door  again.  I 
heard  a  loud  noise  like  a  gun  outside,  and  father  let 
go  of  the  door  and  fell  back.  Mother  caught  hold  of 
him,  so  that  he  did  not  quite  fall  down ;  but  he  could 
not  stand  up,  and  mother  and  sister  helped  him  to  the 
bed  and  he  lay  down.  He  was  very  pale,  and  he  put 
both  hands  on  his  breast,  and  gasped  very  hard.  I 
went  up  to  the  bed.  Mother  and  sister  were  bending 
over  him  and  crying.  I  put  my  arms  around  him. 
He  said,  '  O  my  God !'  in  Spanish,  and  breathed  a 
long  breath.  My  mother  and  sister  cried  louder,  and 
said  he  was  dead.  I  put  my  face  upon  his  hand  and 
cried,  too.  The  noise  outside  came  so  much  louder, 
that  I  looked  up.  The  door  was  open,  and  Carlos 
was  standing  before  it,  striking  as  hard  as  he  could 
with  his  sword  at  the  awful  looking  men  that  were 
trying  to  get  in.  A  monstrous  man  fell  into  the 
room,  dead.  The  head  of  another  one  tumbled  ovei 
Carlos'  shoulder  upon  the  floor.  Mother,  sister,  and 
brother  and  I  went  into  sister's  room.  My  mothei 


148  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

put  her  arms  around  little  brother  and  me,  and  sat 
down  in  one  corner.  Sister  walked  the  room,  wring 
ing  her  hands,  and  saying  in  Spanish,  '  O  !  my  hus 
band  !  They  will  kill  him.  They  will  kill  him. 

0  !   mother,  what  shall  I  do  ?'    Then  she  tried  to  go 
out  and  help  Carlos.     My  mother  would  not  let  her. 
While  they  were  struggling,  my  sister  tried  hard  to 
go.     I  heard  another  sound  like  a  gun,  and  Carlos 
came  running  in,  and  tried  to  shut  the  door  after  him. 
But  a  very  large  black  man — I  saw  the  same  man 
last  night — pressed  close  in  after  him,  and  they  grap 
pled  with  each  other.     The  last  I  remember,  they 
were  struggling  dreadfully. 

When  I  came  to  myself,  I  was  tied  and  lying  on 
the  floor.     I  could  not  stir.     No  one  was  near  me  as 

1  could  -see,  and  so  I  did  not  cry  for  help,  but  'lay 
there  a  long  time  very  still.     "When  I  was   almost 
exhausted,  lying  there  so  still,  those  frightful  black 
men  came  and  took  me  up.     As  they  were  carrying 
me  out,  I  saw  Carlos  lying  in  sister's  arms.     They 
were  deadly  pale,  and  their  clothes  bloody.     I  think 
they  were  both  dead. — Oh,  it  makes  me  feel  so  lonely 
now  to  think  of  it !     I  was  afraid  of  the  black  men, 
and  did  not  feel  so  then.     I  did  not  see  mother,  not 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  149 

little  brother. — Oh,  I  am  so  lonely,  Philip.  "  Why  do 
you  weep,  Philip  ?  It  is  past  now.  I  shall  not  cry  any 
more/'  She  sat  up,  and  twined  her  fingers  in  my 
hair,  begging  me  not  to  weep.  But  I  could  not  help 
it. — So  sad  a  tale !  and  to  my  ear  so  sweetly  told ! 

It  was  nearly  noon.  She  arose,  and  we  went  toge 
ther  to  the  chest  and  partook  of  food.  She  ate  quite 
plentifully,  and  declared  herself  much  renewed, 
desiring  to  walk  out.  This  we  did.  To  our  great 
surprise,  we  saw  no  one.  The  village  seemed  wholly 
deserted.  Satisfied,  from  careful  examination,  that 
it  was  really  so,  a  plan  presented  itself  immediately 
to  my  mind,  and  I  determined  to  carry  it  directly  into 
execution.  I  proposed  it  to  Anne.  Her  judgment 
agreed  with  mine.  We  would  make  our  escape  !  In 
a  few  minutes  we  were  ready,  having  packed  some 
food  in  a  small  bag  which  we  found  amongst  the  rub- 
.ish  of  the  tent. 

We  struck  directly  into  the  thicket,  and  made  for 
the  sea-shore,  whence  we  had  come.  We  travelled 
slowly  all  that  afternoon,  neither  seeing  nor  hearing 
anything  of  our  captors.  Eesting  a  little  at  sunset, 
and  taking  some  food,  we  travelled  on  until  midnight 
Anne  had  borne  up  under  the  fatigue  remarkably 


150  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

but  now  her  tottering  step  and  laborious  breathing 
admonished  me  of  the  necessity  of  repose.  So,  look 
ing  out  a  sheltered  place — it  was  a  small  cave  in  the 
side  of  a  hill — I  smoothed  a  little  space,  and,  sitting 
down,  took  her  in  my  arms,  placing  her  head  upon 
my  bosom.  She  was  soon  asleep,  and  I  sat  thus  hold 
ing  her  until  morning.  She  awoke  greatly  refreshed, 
and  we  went  on  our  way.  We  had  not  gone  far 
when  we  came  in  sight  of  the  sea.  A  great  difficulty 
upon  which  I  had  not  counted,  now  presented  itself. 
The  sea  would  put  an  end  to  our  path.  We  had 
no  boat.  "  Perhaps  we  shall  find  one  on  the  beach," 
said  Anne.  Perhaps.  We  would  try.  We  soon 
arrived  at  the  water's  edge.  No  boat  could  we 
see.  We  walked  along  the  beach  a  mile  or  more. 
Still  no  boat.  *  I  found  an  oar.  As  we  walked  on, 
almost  despairing,  Anne  stumbled.  What  was  it  ?  It 
looked  like  a  keel.  It  was  one.  With  my  oar  I  dug 
away  the  sand  and  pebbles.  It  was  a  boat  buried  in 
the  sand.  With  considerable  labor  I  removed  it,  and 
launched  it.  We  consigned  ourselves  to  it,  floating 
slowly  out  upon  the  deep.  There  was  a  gentle  breeze 
seaward,  and  making  a  mast  of  my  oar,  and  a  sail  of  my 
jacket,  we  drifted  quite  rapidly  and  pleasantly  far  out, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       151 

losing  sight  of  land  before  night.  When  it  was 
entirely  dark  I  took  down  the  sail,  and  making  as 
comfortable  a  place  as  I  could  for  Anne,  I  watched 
her  and  the  sea,  while  she  slept.  I  watched  awhile, 
and  fhen  fell  asleep  myself.  Neither  of  us  awoke 
until  daybreak,  and  then  both  awoke  together,  to  give 
forth  a  shout  of  rapturous  joy.  "We  were  but  a  short 
distance  away  from  a  ship,  and  within  speaking  dis 
tance  of  a  boat  which  had  been  sent  out  to  pick  us 
up.  We  were  shortly  on  board.  It  was  an  American 
vessel,  hailing  from  Boston,  and  homeward  bound. 
Anne  wanted  to  get  off  at  Borneo,  but  unfavorable 
winds  bore  us  far  to  the  northward  of  that  port,  and 
it  was  deemed  impracticable  to  put  back.  She  went 
with  me  to  Boston.  The  captain  of  the  ship,  a 
benevolent  man,  took  a  deep  and  friendly  interest  in 
her,  and  took  her  to  his  own  house.  I  engaged 
myself  in  his  service,  and  wrote  to  my  parents. 
Before  leaving  port,  I  had  the  great  happiness  of  see 
ing  my  father  and  mother,  and  of  consigning  my 
orphan  charge  to  them.  What  became  of  her  after 
wards,  as  well  as  what  befell  me,  would  double  the 
length  of  my  story  to  relate.  I  will  not  enter  upon 
it.  When  I  began,  I  thought  I  would  tell  you  all 


152  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

about  my  experience  as  a  sailor ;  but  it  is  getting 
quite  late,  and  I  must  quit  here  in  the  middle, — fully 
conscious,  by  the  by,  that  I  have  discharged  my  obli 
gation  in  the  way  of  story-telling.  However,  1 
cannot  leave  it  without  stating,  that  the  little  Spanish 
maiden  became  one  day  a  wife,  and  the  sailor  boy  a 
husband,  and — father. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.     153 


CHAPTER    V. 

IT  was  bed-time,  late  bed-time,  after  midnight, 
when  the  supposed  lawyer  brought  his  narration  to  a 
close.  A  general  stretching  and  yawning  immedi 
ately  ensued,  accompanied  with  a  casual  consultation 
of  watches,  and  sundry  mingled  allusions  to  some  of 
the  incidents  of  the  story,  and  to  the  necessity  of 
sleep.  Our  lean  friend  of  the  bar  had  yielded  to  that 
necessity,  as  we  discovered  on  approaching  for  lights, 
and  was,  as  it  seemed,  laboring  with  vile  imaginings 
of  a  piratical  or  other  bloody  character.  His  counte 
nance  bore  an  expression  of  great  horror,  which  with 
the  slight,  yet  significant  motions  of  his  hands,  indi 
cated  that  he  was  desperately  resisting  some  awful 
bugbear  or  other.  The  Quaker  touched  him  with  his 
cane.  He  exploded  with  a  wild  shout  of  terror  that 
awoke  him  at  once,  and  completely. 

"  You  should  go  better  armed,  my  dear  fellow," 
remarked  the  Quaker.  He  made  no  reply,  being 

7* 


154  GKKEN    MOUNTAIN 

evidently  offended  at  our  merriment;,  and  hastening  to 
comply  with  our  demand  for  light*,  directed  us  in  a 
general  way  to  our  places  of  repose,  whither  we 
retired  to  dream  or  reflect,  or  both  in  one,  as  the 
mind's  tone  chanced  to  be. 

How  the  rest  of  the  company  enjoyed  the  night  I 
do  not  know.  My  sleep  was  very  calm,  I  remember ; 
and  the  cold  grey  morning  came  quite  too  soon  for 
me.  The  morning  was  indeed  cold  and  grey.  The 
sun,  judging  from  appearances,  did  not  rise  at  all — 
only  sending  a  delegation  of  light,  which  like  delega 
tions  generally,  seemed  to  have  mostly  forgotten  the 
purpose  of  its  sending.  A  kind  of  dense  mist  that 
was  not  quite  rain,  but  if  anything  wetter  than  rain, 
filled  all  the  nether  atmosphere.  There  was  a  cold, 
north  wind,  too,  a  wind  such  as  causes  the  mercury  in 
old  men's  bones  to  sink  gratingly.  It  blew  with  a 
whistling  sound,  around  the  old  building,  and  roared 
away  most  gloomily,  like  flying  ghosts,  through  the 
stinted  forest  which  bordered  a  neighboring  stream. 

The  transition  from  the  warm  bed  to  my  ungenial 
pantaloons  was  so  disagreeable  that  it  put  me  quite 
out  of  humor,  and  looking  out  at  the  little  four-paned 
window  of  my  apartment,  to  assure  myself  that  I 


TRAVELLEIJS1    ENTERTAINMENT.  155 

had  not  been  dreaming  about  the  weather,  I  took  an 
oath,  which  was  an  oath,  not  to  continue  my  journey 
that  day. 

As  we  sat  at  the  breakfast  table,  I  overheard  the 
two  farmer-like  looking  men  say  one  to  the  other,  by 
way  of  exchange  of  remarks,  that  they  should  not  go 
on  until  the  sky  cleared.  This  was  a  comfort.  1 
should  not  be  all  alone.  "  Do  you  think  of  sallying 
out  to-day,  sir,"  inquired  the  Quaker  of  me.  I 
answered  emphatically  in  the  negative,  alluding  to 
my  oath. 

"  Quite  singular  ! — the  coincidence,  I  mean,"  lie 
said  in  reply;  "I  pledged  wyself  between  the  bed  and 
my  pantaloons  this  morning  to  the  same  effect." 

"  Well,  I've  taken  no  vow  on  the  subject,"  remarked 
the  lawyer,  supposed  to  be,  "  but  I  think  I  shall  try 
the  effect  of  this  latitude  and  longitude  a  little  before 
going  on.  I'm  in  no  hurry  if  the  rest  are  not,  I'm 
sure." 

"  This  looks  like  staying,"  said  the  grey-headed 
man,  laughing.  "  So  it  does,"  gushingly  responded 
the  lawyer,  partly  in  answer  to  the  old  man's  laugh. 

"  I  believe  I  know  what  you  want  to  stay  for,  too," 
said  the  grey-headed,  further,  with  another  laugh. 


156  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

"  Eh,  you  do  ?"  poured  out  the  lawyer  again,  amused 
at  the  old  man's  laughable  hilarity.  "  Yes.  It's  to 
hear  them  'ere  men's  stories  there,"  pointing  to  the 
Quaker  and  me.  This  remark  seemed  very  aptly  put 
in,  evidently  touching  the  secret  inclinations  of  all, 
for  the  subject  was  immediately  dropped,  and  no  more 
brought  up  that  day. 

After  breakfast  it  occurred  to  me  to  suggest  a 
reorganization  for  the  purpose  of  continuing  the 
entertainment.  I  did  so  while  cigars  were  being  lit. 
"  By  no  means ;  by-no-means,"  responded  the  lawyer. 
"  In  such  a  case  we  should  have  the  day  pleasantly 
passed  it  is  true ;  but  the  night  cometh,  you  know. 
That  would  hang,  and  hang  us  with  it  I'm  afraid.  Be 
prudent  my  dear  sir.  Remember  the  foolish  virgins. 
What  do  you  say  my  friend  ?"  addressing  the  Quaker. 

"  I  will  fall  in  with  the  majority  when  there  shall 
be  one,"  replied  the  other.  "  "Well,  that's  fair,  spoken 
like  a  man,  a  true  republican,"  cont:nued  the  law 
yer,  "and  my  point  is  carried,  for  I'm  a  majority 
in  myself!" 

I  succumbed,  and  formally  withdrew  my  propo 
sition,  with  reluctance,  however,  not  exactly  seeing 
the  force  of  the  lawyer's  logic,  and  being  impatient 


ritAVKLLERS'    ENTEKTAESTMENT.  157 

to  hear  what  the  Quaker  might  have  for  us.  "  But 
how  are  you  going  to  pass  the  day  ?"  I  asked  by  way 
of  covering  my  retreat. 

"  Pass  it  if  you  can ;  if  you  can't,  let  it  pass  you, — 
it  will  be  all  the  same.  I  intend  to  follow  this  advice, 
brother,  and  can  conscientiously  offer  it.  Moreover, 
what  I  say  unto  you,  I  say  unto  all.  I  have  spoken." 
Delivering  himself  of  this  facetiousness,  the  lawyer 
strode  out  to  take  a  view  of  the  weather.  He 
directly  returned,  full  of  animation,  declaring  he  had 
a  new  idea,  a  return  of  an  old  want,  which  he  had 
looked  upon  as  among  things  past  to  come  back  no 
more,  namely,  a  desire  to  go  a-fishing.  "  And  now," 
he  concluded,  "  will  any  one  go  along  ?"  No  one 
seemed  so  much  disposed  to  join  him  as  the  Quaker, 
and  out  of  politeness  none  of  the  rest  of  us  offered. 
They  were  soon  in  readiness,  two  oilcloth  overalls,  and 
fishing  tackle  being  raised,  and  started  off  full  of 
mock  anticipation  and  glee. 

The  two  farmers  fell  into  a  pleasant  vein  of  inform 
ing  each  other  of  the  promising  prospects  of  the  live 
stock  trade  ;  of  the  best  manner  of  procuring  as  well 
as  of  curing  said  stock ;  of  the  celebrated  standard 
male  progenitors  in  the  cattle  line,  in  the  horse  line. 


158  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

and  so  on  and  so  forth,  much  varied,  and  with  great 
relish.  The  jolly  old  man  listened,  became  interested 
by  degrees,  and  joined  in  the  conversation.  I  listened, 
and  lost  interest  in  about  the  same  ratio  that  he 
gained  it,  and  finally  went  to  my  room.  I  ordered  a 
comfortable  fire  to  be  built,  and  taking  pencil  and 
paper,  amused  myself  with  sketching  down,  as  nearly 
as  I  could  remember,  the  two  stories  of  the  past 
evening.  Busied  with  this,  the  day  passed  so 
pleasantly  away,  that  I  forgot  my  dinner  totally,  and 
was  surprised  into  a  consciousness  of  the  fact  by  the 
unmistakable  approach  of  night.  I  went  down  stairs, 
and  into  the  bar-room,  just  in  time  to  receive  the 
fishers.  "  "We  have  not  escaped  the  proverbial  fisher 
man's  luck,"  cheerfully  announced  the  Quaker. 

"  No  sir,"  confirmed  the  lawyer,  emphatically. 
"  However,  we  have  something  more  than  local 
saturation.  Look  here,  will  ye  ?"  They  were  both 
dripping  wet.  "  No  fault  of  ours,  however,  let  it  be 
inserted,"  continued  the  lawyer. 

"But  of  that  great  fish,  eh?"  suggested  the 
Quaker,  comically. 

"  Of  that  great  fish,"  returned  the  other.  The 
Quaker  laughed  heartily ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  could 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  159 

be    heard,   the    lawyer    related    the    circumstance. 
They  were  both  on  a  log  at  the  time — a  log,  one  end 
of  which  floated  in  the   stream.     At  one  and  the 
eame  instant  their  hooks  caught,  or  something  caught 
the  hooks — the  latter  it  seemed  was  the  supposition  of 
the  lawyer — and  pulling  hard  and  enthusiastically, 
they  were  both  drawn,  as  the  lawyer  asserted,  into 
the  water.     Fortunately  it  proved  to  be  only  neck- 
deep,  and   they  succeeded  in  getting  out,   and  in 
recovering  their  fishing  poles.     The  hooks,  though, 
remained  fast,  and  they  continued  pulling  until  at  last 
both  hooks  broke,  and  they  were  compelled  to  desist. 
We   were    yet  laughing    at  the    incident   and  the 
lawyer  when  supper  was  made  known.      Waiting 
only  so  long  as  was  necessary  for  our  wet  friends  to 
change  their  garments,  we  proceeded  in  a  body  to 
the  passive  table,  and  demonstrated  our  carnality  in 
a  most  vigorous  manner,  and  with  agreeable  results, 
for  the  space  of  half  an  hour  or  so.     Just  as  I  began 
to  see  clearly  through  the  operation,  having  fixed  my 
eye  and  mind  upon  the  morsels  I  would  eat  and  no 
more,  the  fact  came  to  me,  that  I  might  soon  be 
standing,  or  more  probably  sitting,  before  the  pre 
sent  company  in  the  character  of  social  entertainer. 


160  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

It  was  a  serious  thing,  more  so  as  1  was  disagreeably 
conscious  of  sore  deficiency.  The  consideration 
threw  me  into  a  fit  of  absence,  which  directly 
attracted  the  lawyer's  attention. 

"  You  men  take  it  to  heart  very  much,  don't  you  ?" 
he  said,  rallyingly.  I  looked  around.  The  Quaker 
was  smiling  assent.  He,  too,  had  been  absent. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  I,  with  assumed 
innocence. 

"  Oho  !  what  do  you  mean !"  laughingly  retorted 
the  other.  "  You've  no  idea  of  getting  out  of  it  I 
hope.  Hang  your  pluck,  if  you  do.  Here  we've 
been  waiting  all  day,  so  our  venerable  friend  here 
asserts,  and  probably  believes,  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
having  our  fun  out,  and  now  we  "• 

"  Oh,  I  apprehend  your  allusion  now,"  said  I, 
coming  out  of  my  hypocrisy ;  "  you  touch  upon  the 
matter  of  story-telling.  Don't  be  frightened,  sir. 
The  heaven  is  not  falling.  But  bear  in  mind  I  ought 
to  be  excused,  for  I  wanted  the  thing  to  go  along  in 
the  morning,  and  you  opposed." 

i!  Opposed  on  good  grounds,  sir,  as  will  presently 
be,  1*  it  i*as  not  already  been,  disclosed  unto  you." 
And  so  the  subject  was  dropped. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  161 

Supper  being  satisfactorily  concluded,  we  adjourned 
to  the  bar-room,  to  undergo  a  general  surprise  at  the 
change  which  had  suddenly  taken  place  in  the 
weather.  The  sun  had  just  set,  smiling  a  resplen 
dent  twilight  over  all  the  western  heavens,  while  the 
dismal  clouds  were  folding  themselves  away  into  the 
southeast,  looking  intensely  black.  From  the  south 
came  a  soft  breeze,  mild,  like  an  infant's  breath,  and 
fragrant — most  gratefully  fragrant  and  genial — 
renewing  life  and  thought — -old  life  and  old  thought, 
thought  that  came  of  memories,  tender  as  the  wind 
itself,  and  floating  like  that  in  sweet  gushes  from  a 
sunny  zone ! 

The  porch  was  on  the  south  side  of  the  house,  and 
we  were  all  standing  there  silently  contemplating 
and  enjoying,  when  our  lean  attendant  drew  our 
attention  by  approaching  with  four  chairs  and 
arranging  them.  Under  the  circumstances  we 
needed  no  plainer  suggestion,  and,  waiting  politely 
until  two  more  chairs  were  added,  which  the  ema 
ciated  speedly  brought,  we  sat  down  without  reserve, 
continuing  silent  the  while — a  meditative  mood 
prevailing. 


162  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

The  glowing  twilight  became  less  glowing,  fading 
slowly  and  serenely,  and  the  evening  star  came  out  in 
its  midst,  a  living  gem  upon  its  bosom.  Then  it 
grew  fainter,  and  the  cheerful  star  grew  brighter, 
— brighter,  like  hope  in  death.  The  moon  began  to 
cast  faint  shadows  from  earthly  objects,  silvering  the 
wet  leaves  of  the  trees  and  bushes,  silvering  the 
fences,  and  barn  roof,  and  the  hay-stacks  in  the 
distant  meadow,  all  the  while  looking  down  with  its 
honest,  half-bandaged  countenance,  a  very  saint  of 
benevolence. 

The  twilight  was  nearly  gone.  The  evening  star 
was  setting.  The  moon  was  in  its  glory.  The  soft 
south-wind  blew  yet  soothingly,  and  wafting  fra 
grance  as  of  many  flowers,  when  the  lawyer,  rising: 
with  great  gravity,  announced  that  the  hour  had 
arrived,  yea,  the  minute,  which  he  intended  to 
celebrate  by  requiring  a  continuance  of  the  last 
night's  entertainment.  "  It  becomes  then  my  painful 
necessity  to  re'new  my  staff  of  office.  I  wish  it  to  be 
considered  therefore,  that  I  am  duly  in  the  chair — 
or  shall  be  in  a  moment — and — let  us  have  a 
motion."  Eager  to  escape  the  ordeal  for  the  present, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       163 

(  promptly  motioned  that  the  Quaker  be  appointed. 
In  due  form  the  motion  was  carried,  and  the  Quaker 
declared  chosen.  Upon  which  we  arranged  our 
selves  the  better  to  listen,  and  sat  waiting  in  the 
most  profound  silence  for  what  might  come  forth. 


164  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

You  are  undoubtedly  aware, — thus  the  Quaker 
began,  while  we  were  eagerly  listening, — that  it  is 
embarrassing  for  one  to  attempt  the  keeping  up  of  an 
entertainment  of  this  kind.  You  are  aware  that  a 
good  joke  .rarely  brooks  a  companion,  even  of  the 
same  order ;  that  a  fine  touch  of  sentiment  goes  over 
the  heart  complete  in  itself,  and  would  lose  its  single 
ness  and  come  short  of  its  proper  depth  of  effect  by 
the  intrusion  of  another,  however  fine.  To  feel  the 
last,  finest  vibration  of  a  tone  of  music,  it  must  go  on 
undisturbed.  To  feel  the  last,  deepest  tremor  of  senti 
ment  in  the  centre  of  our  being — that  tremor  which 
angels  in  sympathy  catch,  and  breathe  back  a  wave  of 
bliss  that  is  of  heaven — there  must  be  no  intrusion.  I 
make  these  remarks  in  view  of  the  passages  from  the 
soul  uttered  here  last  night,  I  make  them,  too,  partly 
in  view  of  the  genial  circumstances  that  have  sur 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  165 

rounded  us  for  the  last  hour,  speaking  to  us  mysteri 
ously  of  other  times  and  scenes,  of  other  hopes  and 
joys;  for  I  fear  my  voice  will  be  a  discord,  the  ima 
ges  which  my  words 'will  present,  unwelcome  to  you. 
Indeed  it  is  embarrassing,  though  I  have  no  doubt 
you  will  be  lenient. 

When  this  matter  was  suggested  last  evening,  I 
had  no  idea,  as  I  suppose  none  of  you  had,  that  it 
would  take  such  a  turn  as  it  has.  And  again, 
in  view  of  the  necessity  of  continuing  in  the  same 
strain  that  has  characterized  the  entertainment  thus 
far,  I  feel  a  hesitancy.  The  others  have  made  their 
own  life  the  theme.  I  must  do  so  too  ;  or,  being  alto 
gether  inexperienced  in  weaving  fiction,  my  narrative 
will  be  a  wretched  mockery.  It  is  compelling  one 
to  straits  disagreeable,  and  yet  agreeable,  too,  withal. 
However,  I  will  not  tire  you  with  more  extended 
preface.  My  story  will  be  long  and  tame  at  best,  as 
it  now  appears  to  my  mind,  and  the  sooner  I  enter, 
the  sooner,  relatively  speaking,  I  shall  get  out. 

I  have  said  I  should  have  to  draw  upon  my  own 
experience,  chiefly  for  want  of  other.  I  will  com 
mence  with  my  boyhood  as  the  most  convenient 
point,  and  continue  until- —elaboration  shall  havo 


166  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

ceased  to  be  a  virtue,  if  you  please.  I  will  dis 
creetly  confine  myself  to  the  region  of  memory,  going 
no  further  back  than  I  can  vouch  for  with  an  unsul 
lied  conscience,  which  is  to  the  age  when  my  boy 
hood  began.  I  was  called  Deacon,  and  happily  was 
the  nickname  conceived,  if  we  may  link  the  primitive 
association  with  that  word  ;  for  no  antiquated  family 
cow,  ruminating  in  the  abundant  shade  at  summer 
noon-tide,  was  ever  less  designing  than  I.  The  impulse 
of  the  heart  was  not  always  spoken,  it  is  true ;  but 
when  speech  or  action  did  make  manifest  the  goings 
on  within,  it  was  with  utter  singleness — unequivocal 
straightforwardness.  I  never  told  a  lie,  I  think,  during 
the  whole  of  my  long  boyhood — except  once,  and  then 
it  was  concerning  a  little  girl  about  whom  I  was  very 
much  bored.  This  little  girl  kissed  me  once,  and 
some  one  saw  it  done,  and  afterwards  asked  me  about 
it.  I  denied  it  point  blank,  and  stuck  faithfully  to 
the  denial.  This  lie  my  conscience  never  has  dis 
turbed,  and  I  doubt  whether  it  could  anywhere  be 
found  in  the  Book  of  Human  Discrepancies.  They 
called  me  Deacon  so  much,  and  so  seldom  mentioned 
my  proper  name,  that  I  fell  into  the  way  of  thinking  1 
had  no  other,  and  used  to  tell  inquiring  strangers,  with 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  167 

the  utmost  sincerity,  and  much  to  their  amusement, 
that  my  name  was  Deacon  Munn.  Yet  I  had  ano 
ther  nickname.  It  was  "Hashy."  One  cheerful 
little  being  always  called  me  Hashy.  It  was  the  lit 
tle  girl  whom  I  have  alluded  to.  A  sweet,  lovely 
creature  she  was — that  little  girl; — always  happj* 
when  those  around  her  were  so,  and  sad,  tearful,  when 
those  she  loved — and  they  were  everybody — were 
sorrowful.  She  was  my  daily  companion  during 
those  early  days.  When  I  was  not  at  her  house,  she 
was  at  mine,  coming  always  in  the  afternoon,  soon 
after  dinner,  with  the  ever-glad  announcement  on 
her  tongue,  that  her  "  ma"  had  said  she  might  stay 
till  the  short  clock  pointer  was  on  the  figure  V. 
She  used  to  play  with  me  in  the  house  when  it  was 
winter;  and  in  the  spring  we  used  to,  wander  out 
together,  away  down  into  the  old  meadow,  where 
there  was  a  brook,  a  clear,  pebbly-bottomed  stream, 
that  made  mysterious  music  in  its  flow.  There  we 
would  sit  for  hours  upon  the  bank,  talking  and  mak 
ing  nosegays ;  and  when  we  were  tired,  we  used  to 
listen  to  the  low,  strange  music  which  the  brook 
made,  until  we  were  sad,  and  felt  a  dim  sense  of  awe 
creeping  upon  us.  Ay,  our  souls  felt  a  prophecy  ID 


168  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

the  music  of  that  lonely  stream  wandering  on  to  the 
Great  Unknown.  Too  soon  did  she  enter  upon  the 
fulfillment  of  that  prophecy, — too  long  has  that  ful 
fillment  been  kept  from  me ! 

In  the  summer  we  went  to  school  together,  about 
half  a  mile  away,  to  the  old  country  district  school- 
house.  I  used  to  stop  for  her  regularly  in  the  morn 
ing  on  my  way,  and  come  back  with  her  when  school 
was  out  at  night.  Sometimes  we  played  by  the 
road-side,  and  then  it  would  be  sunset  before  we 
reached  her  home,  and  I  would  be  left  to  go  to  my 
home  alone.  But  it  was  not  far — only  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards  or  so,  and  1  always  imagined  she 
would  be  at  my  side  to  help  me  if  anything  should 
happen,  which  kept  away  fear.  In  the  autumn  she 
came  again  to  see  me — there  being  no  school.  Yet 
not  so  often,  the  weather  was  so  rainy  and  bluster 
ing,  and  she  was  feeble  in  body.  I  was  grown  older, 
too,  and  they  began  to  rally  me  about  my  little  wife 
— some  boorish  loafers  of  the  neighborhood.  This 
made  me  ashamed  to  go  and  see  her,  and  so  we  met 
less  frequently.  Yet  her  presence  was  ever  dear  to 
me,  as  the  memory  of  it  now.  About  that  time  it 
was  she  kissed  me — only  once — she  never  kissed  me 


TKAVELLEKS3    ENTEKTA INMENT.  169 

again,  and  the  lie  was  told  which  conscience  has  ever 
treated  so  benignly. 

Thus  the  first  year — the  outer  circle  of  my  recollec 
tion — passed  on,  becoming  a  treasure  without  price. 

The  next  summer  I  was  a  great  deal  older.  I 
began  to  play  marbles  with  larger  boys,  and  had  a 
ball ;  and  I  did  not  care  so  much  about  being  with 
Seraph — that  was  the  little  girl's  name.  Yet  we 
were  sometimes  together  as  of  old — played  and 
walked  together,  and  gave  each  other  apples  and 
keepsakes. 

When  winter  came  again,  I  went  to  school  and  she 
stayed  at  home,  and  I  saw  her  so  seldom  that  I 
became  quite  alienated,  so  much  so  that  when  one 
day  it  was  announced  to  me  that  she  had  ^one  to 
stay  a  year  with  a  maiden  aunt  living  at  a  distance, 
I  did  not  care  much  about  it,  though  a  few  days 
afterwards  I  had  a  melancholy  spell  of  an  hour  or 
two — that  was  all. 

At  school  I  made  considerable  proficiency,  attain 
ing  to  easy  reading  in  a  little  time.  The  first 
impressions  made  upon  me  by  reading,  which  I 
retain  now,  were  of  Poor  Tray — world-renowned. 
That  simple  story  entered  deeply  into  my  heart,  the 

8 


170  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

deeper,  perhaps,  "because  of  a  circumstance  which  1 
will  relate.  It  happened  during  the  summer  which 
Seraph  was  absent. 

Some  three  quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  school- 
house  was  a  little  artificial  pond,  belonging  to  one 
Abel  Toom,  a  bleak  old  man  who  had  died  in  his 
youth — if  he  ever  lived — leaving  a  hide-bound 
skeleton,  moving  and  existing,  a  social  incumbrance 
— a  most  dismal-looking  object,  indeed ;  he  was  an 
incorrigibly  selfish  being  too,  not  altogether  free 
from  the  charge  of  villainy.  This  old  man  guarded 
his  pond — because,  forsooth,  it  had  a  few  lean  fishes 
in  it — with  the  most>  jealous  care,  encouraging  nests 
of  snakes  at  different  points  along  the  bank  thereof, 
and  being  present  himself  upon  most  occasions,  utter 
ing  hideous  imprecations  whenever  any  encroach 
ment  seemed  impending.  But  I  had  never  heard  of 
nis  having  done  bodily  harm,  though  often  hearing 
of  the  ludicrous  figure  he  cut  in  view  of  trespassing 
youngsters. 

One  sultry  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  summer, 
I  was  beset  after  school  by  a  boy  several  years  my 
senior,  with  the  request  to  join  a  party  that  was 
going  to  vex  old  Abel,  and  if  he  should  not  be  there, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       171 

to  go  in  a-swimming.  I  did  not  want  to  go  on 
account  of  the  company,  and  urged  some  reasons. 
These  he  met  with  so  much  derision,  taking  an  oath 
that  he  would  carry  me  down  and  duck  me,  and  also 
including  under  his  oath  that  he  would  tell  the  boys 
what  a  chicken-hearted  fool  I  acted  like,  that,  partly 
through  fear,  partly  though  spite,  and  a  little  through 
inclination,  I  acceded  to  his  proposal.  They  were 
bad  boys,  and  I  knew  it,  but  I  went  with  them : — 
Poor  Tray ! 

Arrived  at  the  pond,  no  Abel  in  sight.  We  at 
once  divested  ourselves  of  clothing  and  went  into  the 
water.  After  amusing  ourselve.s  for  a  time,  it  was 
suggested  to  take  a  ride  in  a  boat,  which  was  moored 
near  by  where  we  were.  The  suggestion  was  enthu 
siastically  acted  upon,  and  we  were  soon  in  the  deep 
waters,  paddling  away  towards  the  middle  of  the 
pond,  which  was  about  a  hundred  yards  across.  "We 
were  in  the  midst  of  our  enjoyment,  one  boy — the 
oldest — amusing  the  rest  with  a  string  of  gratuitous 
jokes  at  old  Abel's  expense,  when — bang !  went  a 
gun  from  the  shore  whence  we  had  taken  the  boat. 
What  was  it  for?  The  next  moment  we  knew.  Oh, 
flesh  and  bones  !  what  a  smart  I  Oh  ! — cruel,  into!'- 


J72  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

erable  smart !  "  Salt !"  cried  one  boy.  "  Salt ! 
salt !"  cried  another.  "  Salt,  and  thunder  !  he'll  kill 
us,"  chimed  the  third,  and  they  all  jumped  out  into 
the  water  like  so  many  frogs,  leaving  me  alone,  and 
swam  for  the  opposite  shore.  I  yelled  lustily  to  them 
to  come  back  and  help  me  out  of  danger,  as  I  could 
not  swim  nor  row.  But  they  plashed  away,  swim 
ming  desperately,  and  paid  not  the  least  attention  to 
me. — Poor  Tray !  I  grabbed  up  the  oars  frantically, 
and  attemped  to  use  them;  but  between  my  awk 
wardness  and  confusion  they  both  got  out  of  my 
hands  into  the  water.  While  striving  to  recover 
them,  bang !  went  the  gun  again.  I  fortunately 
escaped  with  but  few  grains  of  the  second  charge, 
but  fear  took  complete  possession  of  me.  I  jumped 
up  and  down  in  the  boat  and  screamed  in  the  wildest 
manner.  Nothing  could  be  more  certain  than  a 
lingering  death  on  the  spot,  I  thought.  A  stray 
breeze  wandered  over  the  pond,  which  proved  quite 
refreshing  to  me — it  was  so  cooling  to  my  burning 
skin — until  I  became  aware  that  it  was  wafting  me 
directly  towards  the  place  where  stood  the  awful  old 
man,  whom  I  had  conjectured  from  the  first  to  be, 
and  now  saw  clearly  was,  old  Abel  himself.  Utter 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT        173 

despair  set  in,  and  I  sank  exhausted,  and  shrunk, 
lying  flat  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  In  an  incredi 
bly  short  space  of  time  the  boat  came  within  reach 
of  a  hook  attached  to  a  long  pole  in  old  Abel's  hand, 
and  the  next  instant  the  boat,  with  what  there  was 
left  of  me  in  it,  was  brought  with  a  tremendous  jerk 
upon  the  land.  The  bony  hand  grasped  my  arm. 
Death  now  was  inevitable,  and  would  be  immediate 
— such  was  my  vivid  impression.  But  my  dreadful 
apprehensions  were  directly  dispelled  by  a  great 
flood  of  surprise  at  his  actions.  "  Ahasuerus  Munn's 
Boy,  by  G — d  !"  he  growled,  inspecting  me.  The 
discovery  of  my  parentage  seemed  to  astonish  him  a 
little,  and  abate  his  thirst  for  vengeance.  He  gently 
rubbed  me  all  over  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  apply 
ing  water  now  and  then,  until  the  intense  smarting 
was  considerably  assuaged.  Perceiving  the  effect  of 
his  remedial  efforts,  he  led  me  around  to  my  clothes 
— in  the  presence  of  which  I  almost  cried,  so  long  it 
seemed  since  I  had  put  them  off — and  helping  me  on 
with  them,  he  bade  me  go  home  quickly,  and  never 
be  caught  around  his  pond  again — intimating  more 
dreadful  consequences  in  case  I  should  be  so  caught. 
I  went  home  ;  and  as  I  went,  the  analogy  between 


174:  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

me  and  poor  Tray  arose  distinctly  upon  my  mind, 
and  I  felt  almost  like  a  brother  to  the  little  dog. 

I  made  more  progress  in  reading  arid  spelling, 
doing  my  school-mistress  great  honor,  if  her  tale  to 
my  parents  can  be  credited.  The  autumn  came,  and 
slowly  went.  Winter  school  again  commenced,  and 
under  a  new  tutor  I  was  initiated  into  the  study  of 
Geography.  Anticipatory  as  I  have  always  been,  I 
had  hardly  become  accustomed  to  my  new  boolv 
before  I  made  search,  and  found  the  map  of  Penn 
sylvania — my  native  State  :  and  the  very  next  place 
I  looked  for,  after  finding  the  shire-town  of  the 
county  in  which  I  lived,  was  that  in  which  Seraph 
was  staying.  The  impulse  to  look  was  altogether 
instinctive ;  but  when  I  became  clearly  conscious  of 
what  I  was  about,  a  train  of  very  moving  recollec 
tions  came  upon  me,  diverting  me  wholly  from  my 
search.  I  wanted  to  see  her  very,  very  much.  I  lost 
all  interest  in  my  studies,  and  even  in  my  sports,  and 
went  around  that  day  feeling  quite  melancholy.  It 
was  gone,  however,  with  the  day ;  but  not  till  after  I 
had  questioned  my  mother  concerning  the  dear  one's 
return. 

The  winter  lengthened,  lengthened,  getting  tedious 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  175 

from  its  length,  growing  more  and  more  tedious, 
until  resignation  took  the  place  of  despondency, 
and  the  hope  for  spring  began  to  beam,  and  to  point 
more  confidently  to  the  immediate  future.  Then  the 
snow  went  off,  beginning  its  aquatic  journey  one 
morning  before  light,  and  in  two  or  three  days  it  was 
all  gone,  carrying  fences  and  barns  with,  much  live 
stock  from  the  bottom  lands,  and  gouging  many 
ravines  of  various  depths — some  quite  formidable — 
in  the  bluffs.  Three  very  exciting  days,  cloudy  and 
misty — every  sound,  familiar  and  unattractive  at 
other  times,  having  strange  loudness.  After  these 
days  it  was  warm  and  pleasant.  The  grass  began  to 
grow ;  the  birds  to  sing ;  the  cattle  went  out  upon 
the  pastures.  It  was  spring.  Yet  Seraph  came  not. 
The  arrangements  regarding  her  stay  had  been 
changed.  She  would  not  be  at  home  until  mid 
summer. 

As  the  spring  came  tenderly,  genially  on,  1  was 
taken  sick.  A  long  illness  it  was,  and  painful,  wast 
ing  me  to  skin  and  bones.  For  a  time  it  was  thought 
I  never  would  recover.  But  nature  prevailed  at  last. 
Before  the  summer,  I  was  well  again.  It  was  during 
this  illness  that  I  first  realized  a  mother's  love,  a 


176  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

mother's  kindness  ;  gentle  sisters'  devotion,  a  father's 
solicitude.  Though  it  was  many  years  before  I 
learned  the  relative  character  of  those  who  sur 
rounded  and  administered  unto  me  during  this 
illness,  yet,  as  I  first  began  to  perceive  it  then,  and 
as  it  seems  to  me  necessary  to  introduce  them  to  you 
at  this  point,  I  will  attempt  a  sketch. 

My  mother  was  an  excellent,  old-fashioned  woman 
— a  kind  of  standard  work  on  goodness  and  social 
propriety ;  faithfully  attendant  upon  the  sick  and 
afflicted ;  always  cordially  the  same  to  those  with 
whom  she  associated.  She  was  a  thinking  woman, 
too,  and  passably  well-read — often  speculating  upon 
abstract  subjects  at  the  tea-table,  to  the  edification  of 
female  neighbors  or  sojourners,  to  whom  she  was 
administering  the  rites  of  friendly  entertainment  or 
of  hospitality.  She  had  been  blessed  with  a  good 
education  in  early  life,  a  sound  culture,  being  indoc 
trinated  thoroughly,  and  sometimes  spoke  in  public 
on  the  theme  of  a  judgment  and  a  world  to  come,  All 
in  all,  she  wras  quite  a  prominent  character  in  the  com 
munity,  and  was  pointed  out  to  blooming  daughters 
as  an  example  worthy  of  their  close  imitation. 

My  father  was   an   austere   man,    being    socially 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  17Y 

armed  and  equipped,  impregnable  always,  and  deal 
ing  out  his  personal  cordiality  homoeopathically.  Tet 
in  a  general  way  he  was  a  friend  indeed.  Worldly 
goods  had  accumulated  almost  insensibly  around  him 
until  he  could  call  his  own  much  more  than  he 
needed.  In  fact,  he  was  wealthy,  and  being  ortho- 
doxically  temperate,  and  unambitious  of  pecuniary 
distinction,  he  naturally  felt  the  surplus  a  burden, 
and  obedient  to  his  impulse,  he  annually  gave  away, 
in  one  direction  or  another,  hundreds  of  dollars.  His 
specious  mansion  was  always  open,  and  often  seemed 
like  a  public-house,  except  that  those  who  partook, 
did  so  without  money  and  without  price.  He  had 
been  a  farmer  from  his  youth  up,  -  and  delighting 
more  in  muscular  than  in  mental  exercise,  his  deve 
lopment  had  been  chiefly  in  the  former  capacity. 
Still  he  was  a  man  of  excellent  sense  and  every-day 
judgment. 

I  had  two  sisters,  one  of  them  six,  the  other  ten 
years  older  than  I.  They  were  happy  girls — plump, 
and  rosy  with  health,  perfect  fountains  of  good 
nature,  and  unquenchable  enjoyment.  Morning, 
noon  or  night  they  were  ever  ready  with  smiles  and 
pleasant  words  to  contribute  happiness  where  it  was 

8* 


178  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

due.  In  intellectual  peculiarities  they  were  more 
after  my  father's  than  my  mother's  mould,  being 
bright  and  apt,  with  good  sense  in  practical  affairs. 

"We  three  were  the  only  scions  of  the  parent  stock, 
and  most  harmoniously  did  we  live  together.  Yet 
being  so  much  older  than  I,  they  were  not  exactly  com 
panions  for  me,  and  I  felt  it  never  more  than  during 
my  slow  recovery  that  spring.  Besides,  the  elder 
sister,  Delia  by  name,  had  begun  to  look  with  tender 
glance  upon  a  certain  young  man  in  the  vicinity,  not 
very  tender,  but  accompanied  with  a  kind  of  melan 
choly,  and  a  mental  absence  whiph  withdrew  her  from 
me  to  some  degree.  I  longed  for  Seraph  to  come 
home.  Though  somewhat  diverted  by  my  asso 
ciations  at  school,  yet  the  desire  deepened.  At  last 
she  came.  Bright,  and  cheerful  as  ever,  she  met  me. 
She  was  grown  much  larger,  yet  looked  the  same  in 
her  sweet  face, — was  the  same  prattling  creature.  I 
stayed  at  home  a  week  on  purpose  to  visit  her ;  and  oh, 
the  hours  were  happy  and  swift.  The  week  was  gone 
quite  too  soon.  Thenceforward  I  was  never  alienated 
from  her.  I  bad  become  used  to  the  excitement  and 
novelty  of  attending  school,  and  participating  in  the 
sports  of  my  mates  ;  I  had  ceased  to  be  disturbed  by 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  179 

the  taunts  of  coarse  wretches  ;  and  I  took  her  to  my 
heart  again  more  intelligently,  more  sincerely.  She 
became  as  a  sister  to  me,  devotedly  loved. 

Happy  in  a  father's  and  a  mother's  love,  happy  in 
isters'  love,  happy  in  the  companionship  of  Seraph; 
tit  harmony  with  my  schoolmates,  nattered  and 
caressed  by  my  tutors,  I  advanced  smoothly  along, 
developing  in  all  human  respects  rapidly.  One  after 
another  my  pet  sports  passed  out  of  fashion  with  me. 
Playing  marbles  first,  then  the  pleasant  variety  that 
I  drew  from  a  little  dog  which  one  of  my  uncles  gave 
me.  Afterwards  my  kite  with  its  dreamy  liftings-up 
of  my  earnest  soul,  my  fishing  tackle  next — then 
my  bow  and  arrows.  One  by  one  they  engaged  me, 
and  were  laid  by,  having  lost  their  attractiveness,  and 
I  came  pensively,  seriously  into  that  leafy  passage  of 
life,  where,  green  to  the  centre,  everything  appears 
green,  hopeful,  brilliant,  alluring. 

About  thirteen  years  old  I  was.  My  sister  Delia, 
full  of  ripeness  and  love  as  it  is  in  woman's  nature  to 
be  at  twenty-three  years,  had  not  resisted  the  twining 
advances  of  that  certain  young  man,  but  had  linked 
soft  tendrils  around  his  manly  heart,  drawing  him 
closer,  and  they  were  married — as  healthy,  honest, 


180  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

and  mutually  enjoyable  a  couple  as  ever  went  out  OD 
moonlight  nights,  to  sit  in  fragrant  arbors  and  kiss 
each  other's  lips,  thinking  this  world  a  paradise. 

In  the  midst  of  high  rejoicings,  of  congratulations, 
blessings  and  glowing  hopes,  they  retired  from 
amongst  us,  going  to  a  neighboring  town  to  set  up  a 
new  home  of  their  own. 

This  was  an  era  in  our  family.  A  new  entry  was 
made  in  the  family-Bible,  on  a  new  page,  and  an 
entire  overhauling  and  shifting  took  place,  ending 
in  a  new  arrangement  of  all  the  old,  familiar  objects, 
making  the  whole  house  appear  strange  for  some 
time.  But  everything  settled  down  quietly  after  a 
while,  and,  old  habits  resuming  sway,  we  became  gra 
dually  accustomed  to  the  loss,  so  that  matters  went 
on  pretty  much  as  before. 

As  I  had  grown  older,  my  intercourse  with  Seraph 
had  become  slightly  tinged  with  reserve.  She  had 
become  perceptibly  timid  in  her  bearing  towards  me. 
Still  we  met  often,  met -by  ourselves.  But  she  would 
not  let  me  take  her  hand  or  put  my  arm  around  her 
waist  as  I  used  to.  There  was  a  feelins:  within  me, 

o  / 

too,  that  forbade  it.  An  inclination  and  a  drawing 
back  I  had,  and  they  both  grew  stronger.  We  had 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  181 

begun  to  love  each  other — not  as  brother  and  sister. 
Yet  it  was  a  bud  that  never  bloomed  ! 

One  Monday  morning  in  the  summer  after  the  mar 
riage  of  my  sister,  which  I  ought  to  have  before  stated 
happened  in  April,  I  was  surprised,  on  entering  the 
school-room,  to  find  Seraph's  desk  vacant — the  more 
so  as  the  school  had  already  been  commenced  some 
time.  Her  regularity  in  attendance  had  been 
remarkable ;  and  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  the 
apprehension,  that  some  evil  had  befallen  her.  I 
thought  of  it  many  times  during  the  day,  and  made 
bold  to  inquire,  immediately  on  my  return  home,  if 
they  knew  where  she  was.  "  Sick,"  said  my  mother. 
"I  have  just  come  from  there;  she  is  very  sick." 
The  announcement  was  for  the  moment  like  a  dagger 
in  my  heart.  I  went  away  to  my  little  bed-room  up 
stairs  and  cried.  You  may  wonder  somewhat  at  tho 
-depth  of  my  attachment  at  that  early  age.  I  have 
wondered  at  it  myself  sometimes.  Yet  when  I  recall 
the  singular  earnestness  of  my  disposition ;  the 
thousand  circumstances  that  favored  our  intercourse ; 
the  exclusiveness  of  my  affections,  particularly 
towards  females ;  the  truly  lovable  character  of  the 
child,  and  her  attachment  to  me  ;  my  predisposition 


182  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

for  things  and  persons  amicable  and  mild,  being  never 
fond  of  boisterous  sports  ; — when  I  recall  these  things, 
it  does  not  seem  strange.  To  be  sure  I  had  cronies 
among  boys  of  my  own  age,  and  of  similar  cast, 
yet  these  attachments  were  brief — changing  con 
stantly.  There  was  a  social  want — it  had  been  always 
with  me — which  none  but  Seraph  could  meet.  That 
want  was  taking  another  and  deeper  hold.  Hence, 
my  solicitude. 

The  next  evening  I  inquired  again  with  a  tremb 
ling  voice.  My  mother  was  very  sober.  "  My  son," 
she  answered,  "  I  am  afraid  our  Seraph  is  going  to  die." 

"Can  I  go  and  see  her?"  I  asked,  overpowered 
with  anguish. 

"She  is  delirious,"  replied  my  mother.  "She 
would  not  know  thee."  Oh,  how  it  wrung  my  heart 
to  hear  this !  I  could  eat  no  supper.  And  when  I 
went  to  bed  I  could  not  sleep,  I  could  think  of  nothing 
but  her.  I  would  not  go  to  sleep.  It  seemed  a  sin 
for  me  to  sleep,  and  she  lying  in  so  much  pain — so 
sick.  When  at  last,  long  after  midnight,  I  began  to 
dream,  it  was  of  her  ;  yet  of  her  in  health,  leading  me 
by  the  hand  through  an  endless  mead  of  flowers  and 
shrubs,  and  lofty  trees. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  183 

I  did  not  go  to  school  the  next  day,  nor  the  next. — 
The  third  day  she  died.  My  mother  was  with  her 
when  she  died.  They  would  not  let  me  go,  though 
I  entreated  with  tears.  It  was  well  perhaps,  they 
did  not.  My  memory  of  her  now,  is  as  of  a  sweet 
vision  that  beams  awhile,  passing  back  to  heaven. 

When  my  mother  returned  from  composing  the 
remains  of  the  little  sufferer,  I  asked  her  to  tell  me 
how  she  died  and  what  she  said.  With  much  inter 
ruption  from  tears  and  sobs,  she  told  me,  that  a  few 
minutes  before  her  death,  she  revived  from  the  stu 
por  into  which  she  had  fallen,  and  called  her  father 
and  her  mother  to  her  side,  and  kissed  them  saying, 
"  We  will  meet  in  heaven,  dear  father  and  mother  ; 
good  bye."  "  Then  she  beckoned  her  sisters,  one 
after  another,"  continued  my  mother,  "  and  they 
came,  and  she  kissed  them,  begging  them  not  to  weep 
so,  telling  them  she  was  happy,  and  would  be  a  great 
deal  happier  soon.  Her  brother  was  kneeling  by 
her.  Oh,  it  was  hard  for  him !  Strong  man  as  he 
is,  he  wept,  and  groaned,  as  though  she  were  his  last 
earthly  friend.  She  told  him  to  call  me.  I  went  to 
her.  I  bent  over  her,  and  smoothed  her  hair  away 
from  her  forehead  and  kissed  it.  '  Thou  art  a  good 


184  GEEEN   MOUNTAIN 

woman/  she  said;  'Hove  thee.  Goodbye!'  I  was 
going  away.  I  could  not  bear  to  see  the  little  angel 
die.  She  clung  to  my  hand,  and  asked  me — 'Is 
Ahasuerus  here  ?'  I  told  her  no.  '  Then  tell  him,' 
she  said, — her  voice  was  very  faint ;  she  was  almost 
gone, — '  tell  him  not  to  mourn  for  me.  I  am  going 
to  heaven,  where  I  shall  be  always  happy.  I  shall 
think  of  him.  Give  him  my  little  Bible.  Tell  him 
to  keep  it.  Don't  let  him  mourn  for  me.'  This  was 
all  I  heard  her  say,  my  son.  It  is  hard,  I  know,"  she 
continued,  seeing  me  so  overwhelmed  with  grief. 
"  She  was  very  dear  to  us  all."  The  great  Searcher 
of  hearts,  only  knows  the  agony  of  that  hour  to  me. 
I  cried  until  I  had  no  more  tears  to  shed,  walking 
about,  at  rest  nowhere.  It  was  cruel,  indeed,  and 
hard  to  bear.  I  went  to  my  sister's  room,  and  with 
her  I  talked  over  all  I  could  remember  of  Seraph. 
It  gave  me  great  relief.  Yet  it  was  late  in  the  night 
before  I  could  be  persuaded  to  go  to  my  rest.  When 
at  last  I  did,  my  grief  would  not  let  me  sleep.  I 
felt  as  one  in  a  strange  place.  I  was !  The  world  had 
changed  to  me.  It  would  never  be  the  same  to  me 
again. 

Circumstances  compelled  it,  and  they  buried  he* 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTEETAINMENT.  185 

the  day  following  her  death.  I  attended  her  funeral. 
But  I  did  not  look  into  the  coffin.  ISTo  one  looked 
into  it.  "When  the  ceremony  of  burial  was  over,  and 
the  throng  had  dispersed,  I  lingered,  seating  myself 
beneath  a  tree,  a  little  apart  from  the  grave,  and  feel 
ing  as  though  I  could  never  leave  the  sacred  spot.  I 
sat  a  long  time  there,  looking  through  my  tears  upon 
the  grave  so  precious,  recalling  the  thousand,  thousand 
things  that  had  a  voice  of  her,  that  brought  her 
beaming  smile.  Did  her  spirit  linger,  too,  around 
that  grave,  soothing  my  sad  heart  with  its  new  breath, 
and  giving  vigor  to  my  memory  ?  I  had  a  grateful 
sense  that  it  was  so  ;  and  a  sweet,  tender  melancholy, 
like  that  which  sad,  distant  music  gives,  stole  over  me. 
I  ceased  to  weep.  My  vision  became  clear,  and  I 
looked  up  through  an  opening  in  the  trees,  far  up, 
deep  into  the  soft,  pure  sky.  There  is  her  home,  I 
thought.  There  she  will  hover,  looking  down  upon 
me.  There  I  shall  go  with  her,  when  I  die. 

At  last  the  cold  night  dews  and  the  approaching 
darkness  admonished  me  of  the  necessity  of  seeking 
my  home  ;  and  with  a  slow,  reluctant  step  I  left  the 
place.  As  I  was  going  out,  I  met  rny  father  coming 
for  me.  He  did  not  chide  me ;  but  took  my  hand  in 
his  tenderly,  as  was  not  his  manner,  and  we  walked 


186  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

home  in  silence  beneath  the  gathering  shadows  of  the 
silent  night. 

Grief  may  be  very  poignant,  and  deep,  in  early 
life ;  but  it  does  not  last.  "We  are  climbing  the  hill. 
The  prospect  is  widening.  Hope,  too,  is  mounting  ; 
and  the  aerial  view  beams  ever  more  brightly, 
becomes  ever  more  vast  and  alluring.  W&  overlook 
the  graves  of  those  who  go  aside,  journeying  no 
more  with  us, — 'they  are  lost  in  the  swelling,  gorgeous 
scene.  We  cannot  stop,  if  we  would,  to  hear  the 
voice  of  the  pine,  or  bedew  the  cypress.  It  is  true,  a 
great  bereavement  wrill  make  an  era  in  opening  life, 
will  change  the  path  from  what  it  would  have  been. 
Still  we  must  go  onward,  ever  onward,  on  our  way. 
This  was  to  a  great  extent  true  of  me.  At  first  I  went 
often  to  Seraph's  grave,  taking  with  me  the  little 
Bible — her  last  bequest.  Every  day  I  used  to  go. 
Then  every  other  day.  Finally  but  once  a  week. 
And  when  the  winter  snows  came,  their  whitenesa 
lay  unsullied  around  that  grave — no,  there  was  one 
track.  I  saw  it  as  I  was  passing  once :  a  woman's 
track.  I  stopped  to  look  at  it ;  but  the  place  appeared 
bleak  and  desolate  ;  I  did  not  enter.  "  When  spring 
comes,"  said  I  to  myself,  promisingly,  and  passed 
on.  So  soon  had  it  become  a  pious  duty  merely. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  187 

Spring  came ;  but  with  it  came  other  thoughts — 
new,  and  new  feelings,  new  objects  of  interest.  One 
afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  April,  as  I  was  hoeing 
in  the  flower-garden,  in  front  of  the  house,  a  middle- 
aged  man,  carrying  a  large  portmanteau,  came  up  to 
the  gate,  and  asked  if  Ahasnerus  was  at  home.  Since 
Seraph's  death,  my  sister  Cynthia  had  persisted  in 
calling  me  by  my  proper  name,  and  I  had  got  the 
hang  of  it  pretty  well.  For  the  moment  forgetting 
that  Ahasuerus  was  likewise  my  father's  name,  I 
advanced,  hoe  in  hand,  very  confidently,  and  told 
him  yes,  that  was  my  name.  "  Well,  you've  met 
with  a  great  loss  of  years,"  he  responded,  "  that's  a 
fact,  since  I  saw  you.  I'd  like  to  partake  of  your 
elixir,  myself.  By  the  by,  boy,  it's  your  father  I 
want  to  see;  Ahasuerus  Munn,  senior."  Though 
mortified  at  my  blunder,  yet  such  was  his  manner 
— so  full — overflowing  with  heartiness  and  the  most 
sunny  good-nature,  that  I  suffered  no  self-deprecia 
tion  ;  and  I  informed  him,  in  a  very  civil  way,  that 
my  father  was  at  work  in  an  adjoining  field. 
"  Indeed !  Industrious  as  ever.  Why,  the  man  will 
be  rich  one  of  these  days,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  com 
ing  through  the  gate,  and  looking  around  admiringly. 
The  open  front-door  caught  his  eye.  "  Well,  I  sup- 


188  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

pose  it's  no  difference.  Cynthia,  and  Delia,  and  the 
good,  strong-minded  Catherine — mother  of  us  all,  I 
might  say, — they're  at  home,  not  2" 

"  Delia  is  married,  and  gone  away,  this  spring's  a 
year,"  I  replied,  answering  his  question,  and  giving 
him  the  fact  as  something  that  would  interest  him,  I 
thought,  from  his  manner.  And  it  seemed  to,  much. 
"  Married !"  he  broke  out  in  great  astonishment. 
"  Delia  married  ?  Boy,  I'll  have  you  beheaded  for 
making  false  report.  You  really  say,  on  the  oath  of 
an  honest  boy — which  I  confess  you  resemble — that 
Delia  Munn,  my  little  knee-high  pet,  is  married,  and 
gone  off — this  spring's  a  year.  Well,  now ;  that 
beats  Crbton  oil.  I  had  no  idea  time  was  passing  so 
fast.  And  I  never  heard  of  it  either.  That's 
strange.  Yet's  a  long  while,  I  know.  By  the  by, 
this  puts  me  in  the  way  of  thinking  there  was  a  little 
squalling  brat,  nibbling  silver  tea-spoons  in  the  cra 
dle,  and  laughing  at  the  looming  spectacle  of  feet,  to 
the  ownership  of  which  he  did  not  see  his  title  clear. 
A  lusty  brat  he  was — only  son  he  was,  too, — heir 
apparent.  Are  you  he?" 

I  replied  that  I  supposed  I  was. 

"  And  has  it  come  to  this  2'7  he  mused,  surveying 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  189 

me  from  head  to  foot,  and  resting  his  hand  upon  my 
shoulder.  "My  boy,  you  and  I  must  be  better 
acquainted.  Don't  you  remember  me  ?  Lord,  no. 
That  was  a  foolish  question.  Haven't  you  ever  heard 
your  father  or  mother — mother,  most  likely — men 
tion  the  name  of  Joshua  ?  That's" — — 

At  this  moment  some  one  appeared  at  the  front 
door.  It  was  my  mother.  "  Urn !"  she  exclaimed — 
a  favorite  expression  of  surprise  with  her,  and  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  by-word  I  ever  heard  her  utter 
—"  Joshua !" 

"  Catherine,  as  I  live  !  The  never-to-be-forgotten 
Catherine,  how  do  you  do  ?"  The  next  moment  he 
had  hold  of  her  hand,  and  a  cordial  greeting  ensued. 
"  Grown  a  little  old  in  the  mean  time  ;  I  hope  not 
cold?"  Her  bearing  did  not  seem  to  indicate  it. 
"  And  Cynthia,  too — dear  child  !  How  you  bloom !" 
Cynthia  held  his  other  hand.  "  I  loved  you  once,  you 
chick,  and  used  to  kiss  you.  You're  only  a  chickm, 

now,  and  I  see  no  objection" Smack  !     "  Ay,  it's 

over  with.  You  needn't  blush  so.  Take  thought  on 
my  grey  hairs.  Indeed,  how  have  you  all  done  in 
the  long  interval  ?  "Well,  I  see.  Delia  is  married,  they 
say.  By  the  everlasting  hills,  I  was  surprised.  I  could 


190  GRF.EN    MOUNTAIN 

not  have  been  more  so  if  the  Man  in  the  Moon  had 
accosted  me."  There  was  a  pause  in  which  all  three 
seemed  to  be  thinking  seriously  about  something. 
"Thou  art  well,  I  see,  friend  Joshua,"  said  my 
mother,  returning  to  the  subject.  "  Always  well, 
Catherine,"  he  responded,  having  the  appearance 
also  of  returning ;  "  haven't  been  sick  an  hour  in  the 
last  five  years." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  thee  say  so,"  said  my  mother. 
"  We  have  to  thank  a  beneficent  Providence  on  that 
account,  ourselves.  But  come  in.  Supper  will  be 
ready  soon.  Deacon,  call  thy  father."  Upon  this 
they  went  in,  and  I  went  to  discharge  my  behest. 

With  a  little  of  the  hypocritical,  as  I  had  begun  to 
be  mischievously  inclined  sometimes,  I  merely  called 
my  father  to  supper;  and  walking  along  with  him 
into  the  house,  enjoyed  his  surprise  exceedingly. 
"After  five  years'  interval,  how  do  I  find  you?" 
inquired  Joshua,  rising.  My  father  responded  cor 
dially,  exhibiting  more  emotion  than  I  had  ever  seen 
in  him  before.  They  directly  fell  into  a  very  anima 
ted  conversation,  Joshua  doing  the  principal  part  of 
the  talking,  expressing  both  his  thoughts  and  recol 
lections  and  my  father's  to  a  great  extent.  I  listened 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       191 

until  I  began  to  lose  interest  in  what  they  were  say 
ing  ;  and  then  I  gave  way  to  the  speculation  which 
had  infested  my  mind  ever  since  he  first  addressed 
me,  namely,  as  to  who  he  was.  He  was  an  old 
acquaintance  of  the  family  :  that  was  evident.  He 
was  a  doctor, — so  I  had  gathered  from  the  conversa 
tion  between  him  and  my  father.  From  Harrisburg, 
I  had  gathered  from  the  same  source.  I  wanted  to 
know  more  about  him.  Singular  old  man  !  I  loved 
him.  I  could  not  help  it.  They  all  loved  him.  I 
could  see  that  plainly.  I  called  Cynthia  aside  and 
she  satisfied  me.  He  was  an  old  school-mate  of  my 
father's  and  mother's.  They  had  been  to  school 
many  a  year  together.  In  his  youth,  Joshua  had 
studied  medicine,  and  had  followed  his  profession 

very  successfully  in   C (our   county-town)   and 

vicinity.  Before  she  could  remember,  he  had  gone  to 
Harrisburg  to  live.  He  had  been  to  our  house  once 
since :  this  she  could  remember.  And  she  had  seen 
him  five  years  before,  when  she  and  father  and 
mother  were  in  Harrisburg.  I  could  remember  when 
they  went.  "  He  is  a  bachelor,"  concluded  my  sis 
ter,  "  and  isn't  he  a  nice  man  ?" 
"  I  like  him,"  said  L 


192  GKEEN  MOU]SnrAIN 

"  So  do  I,"  she  said.  "  He's  the  best  man  in  the 
world." 

Armed  with  these  facts,  I  returned,  and  we  all  sat 
down  to  supper.  The  conversation  shot  off  in 
various  directions,  without  coming  back  to  any  given 
point,  wandering  very  desultorily,  touching  upon  one 
thing  and  another,  at  last  hitting  me.  "I  see  that 
said  baby — pride  of  a  mother's  heart — has  grown 
monstrously,"  remarked  Joshua,  looking  apparently 
awestricken  at  me.  My  mother  assentecU  modestly, 
and  I  blushed.  "  Let's  see,  he's  fourteen,  according 
to  my  reckoning,  not  ?" 

"The  fifth  of  next  month,"  answered  my  mother 
promptly. 

"  Fourteen.  Long  years  to  him,  I  have  no  doubt, 
longer  than  to  the  rest  of  us.  Deacon,  I  observe  you 
call  him.  Do  you  deserve  the  name,  my  boy? 
I  know  a  very  worthy  deacon  in  Harrisburg. 
Deacon," — I  was  blushing  deeply,  and  they  were  all 
smiling — "  you  ought  not  to  be  ashamed  of  your 
name."  The  conversation  was  painful  to  me,  and  he 
knew  it ;  so  he  changed  it. 

The  supper,  and  afterwards  the  evening,  passed  off 
very  pleasantly,  and  we  retired  to  sleep,  Joshua 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  193 

bearing  his  huge  portmanteau  with  him — "Not  for 
fear  of  robbery,"  he  observed,  "  but  for  fear  I  shall 
want  to  rob  it  myself." 

I  was  just  about  dropping  into  slumber,  when  a 
sound  like  vocal  music  from  Joshua's  room,  which 
was  adjoining  mine,  jerked  me  broad  awake.  Music 
was  a  thing  comparatively  unknown  in  our  parts, 
particularly  in  our  house,  and  it  startled  me.  I 
listened.  Joshua  was  evidently  in  great  anxiety 
wrestling  with  the  pitch.  Presently  he  captured  it 
and  started  off  with  an  eminently  successful  pace  as 
it  regarded  sound,  rising  majestically  into  the  laby 
rinth.  Directly  his  pitch  was  gone.  He  did  not 
seem  at  first  aware  of  it.  When  he  was,  he  stopped. 
After  a  short  skirmish  on  the  spot,  he  went  on  again, 
finishing  with  another  piece  altogether,  whose  end 
was  so  much  too  low  for  his  voice  that  the  last  three 
or  four  notes  put  me  in  mind  of  trying  to  duck  a  cat. 
I  was  amused.  Though  unversed  in  the  science  of 
music,  I  had  some  sort  of  an  idea  what  it  should  be. 
I  have  by  nature  a  good  ear;  and  through  the 
medium  of  a  small  Methodist  congregation  which 
met  for  worship  in  our  town,  and  which  I  sometimes 
out  of  curiosity  had  mingled  with,  had  gained  a  little 

• 

9 


194  QEEEN   MOUNTAIN 

incidental  cultivation.  I  perceived  that  Joshua's 
effort  was  a  laughable  failure,  but  he  did  not.  Far 
from  it.  He  seemed  to  draw  inspiration  from  his 
imaginary  success,  and  glowingly  tramped  through 
one  piece  after  another  for  a  half  an  hour  or  more, 
whistling  through  the  heights  which  his  voice  could 
not  reach,  and  coming  to  an  end  only  by  reason  of 
the  interruption  of  a  violent  cough,  which  he  could 
not  surmount,  nor  disguise. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  my  father,  in  a 
rallying  way,  asked  him  how  he  slept.  He  took  the 
point,  and  replied,  with  a  slight  dash  of  embarrass 
ment  at  first,  "Well,  quite  well.  Better  than  the 
rest,  maybe,  eh  ?  I  declare  I  didn't  think  of  your 
.private  sentiments  last  night.  I  did  get  warm — 
unusually  so.  But  there  is  a  power  in  those  old 
masters,  by  their  manes!  Ahasuerus,  if  1  had  fol 
lowed  music  as  a  profession,  I  believe  I  might  have 
done  something.  All  my  voice  needs  is  careful 
training.  But  that,  you  know,  a  man  of  my  calling 
can't  do  very  well.  I  understand  the  science  per 
fectly.  I  wish  I  could  jot  down  some  of  my  concep 
tions,  and  had  a  voice  to  sing  them,  I'd  show  these 
squalling,  caterwauling  popular  vocalists  how  the 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.     195 

* 

thing  should  be  done.  I  never  heard  any  music  yet 
that  sounded  to  me  like  music — except  perhaps  in 
dreams. — By  the  way,  that  brings  up  the  dream  I 
had  last  night.  You  must  hear  it.  I  dreamt  that 
Mozart  came  to  me,  and  sang  so  vehemently,  and 
with  such  exalted  inspiration,  that  the  notes  took 
material  shapes  and  fell  out  of  his  mouth  upon  the 
ground.  I  picked  them  up,  and  they  gave  out,  each 
according  to  its  size,  the  most  exquisite  tones  imagin 
able.  I  awoke  trying  to  get  the  key  note  into  my 
ear.  Mozart  had  told  me  if  I  could  get  the  key  note 
in,  he  would  repeat  his  song.  Quite  a  dream  wasn't 
it?  However,  I  know  your  constitutional  objections 
to  the  subject." 

"  By  no  means.  Go  on  Joshua,"  my  mother  put 
in.  "  Sing,  and  talk  about  it  all  thou  pleasest.  We 
are  commanded  to  bear  with  one  another's  infirmi 
ties,"  she  concluded,  smiling. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  never  mind,  my  tale  is 
told.  Let  us  dismiss  the  subject." 

During  the  forenoon  and  a  part  of  the  afternoon, 
being  engaged  at  my  appointed  task,  I  did  not  see 
Josliua.  Towards  night,  as  I  was  sitting  on  the  gate 
post,  taking  boy-fashioned  repose  from  my  labor, 


196  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

Joshua  hailed  me  from  the  front  door,  asking  me  if  I 
wished  to  walk.  Eagerly  assenting,  I  joined  him  and 
my  father,  and  we  strolled  off,  away  down  across  the 
old  meadow  towards  an  ancient  forest,  bounding  its 
opposite  edge.  The  sun  was  about  two  hours  high, 
shining  peacefully,  and  with  a  mellow  light,  upon  the 
silent,  majestic  trees,  all  along  the  side  we  were 
approaching,  filling  the  fresh  foliage,  as  it  were,  with 
living  light,  and  imparting  a  most  delightful  sense  of 
repose  to  the  soul. 

.As  we  walked  leisurely  on,  looking  around  at 
different  objects  of  attraction, — now  each  for  himself, 
— now  all  together,  looking  in  silence,  except  a  brief 
remark  or  ejaculation  now  and  then,  Joshua  had  a 
train  of  thought  suggested  to  him,  apparently  by  the 
general  scene.  I  remember  the  theme. 

"Could  we  always  see  the  world  under  such  a 
light,"  thought  he  aloud,  "  I  would  be  very  much 
better  contented  in  it.  Could  we  always  feel  within 
ourselves  such  balmy  influence  shed  abroad,  see  it 
and  feel  it,  how  much  more  bearable  were  human 
life  !  I  have  watched  men  considerably  one  time  and 
another,  and  I  have  always  found  them  at  this  hour, 
when  the  heavens  were  open  and  the  earth  respon- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  197 

sive,  in  better  mood,  more  susceptible  to  the  appeals 
of  distress,  more  open  to  the  reception  of  sound 
thought,  more  suggestive  of  it.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  is,"  replied  my  father,  endea 
voring  to  express  in  his  countenance  the  philosophi 
cal  depth  which  his  words  did  not  convey. 

"I  have  found  genius  beginning  its  day  of  action 
at  this  hour,  shadowing  forth  great  things  that  were 
to  live  in  the  hearts  of  men  for  ever,"  continued 
Joshua  in  general.  "The  criminal,  it  is  said,  lays 
aside  his  bloody  machinations,  feeling  the  sweets  of 
remembered  purity  at  such  an  hour,  beneath  such  a 
scene.  Then — it  is  said — the  breath  of  ripened  beauty 
is  balmiest,  her  words  more  of  the*  tone  of  heaven. 
Hope  is  most  quiet,  memory  most  active,  devotion 
nearest  to  its  God.  Indeed  mankind  is  better.  It  is 
a  blessed  hour.  Poets  have  sung  about  it,  lovers 
have  loved  it,  dying  saints  have  thanked  God  for  it ; 
and  I  thank  God  for  it,  thank  my  stars  for  it.  *Aha- 
suerus !" 

Ahasuerus,  my  father,  had  all  the  time  looked 
very  profound ;  starting  up,  he  answered — 

"  What  ?" 

"I'm  thinking,"  said  Joshua  at  the  top  of  a  long 


'  198  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

breath,  "tli  at  we've  got  to  climb  tins  fence."  Sure 
enough,  we  were  right  upon  the  meadow  fence — a 
nine-railed  'barrier.  But  we  were  soon  over  it,  there 
being  a  little  emulation  in  the  act,  and  entered  with  a 
slower  pace  the  grand  old  wood.  Directly,  Joshua 
remarked,  "  There's  a  tree  that  puts  me  in  mind  of  a 
laughable  thing  that  happened  when  I  was  a  student, 
a  great  many  years  ago.  Old  Doctor  Schaum, — you 
didn't  know  him,  I  guess." — My  father  had  seen  him 
once  or  twice. — "  Indeed  !  You  know  his  make  then. 
He  weighed  three  hundred  and  ten  pounds  avoirdupois, 
with  his  boots  and  cane, — plump  that  before  dinner. 
I  never  could  induce  him  to  be  weighed  after  dinner ; 
,  for  with  all  his  grossness  he  had  a  delicacy  about 
revealing  the  extent  of  his  libations  'and  sacrifices  to 
the  god,  whose  diadem  is  the  waistband.  He  was 
very  indolent  in  body ;  and  he  cherished  his  indo 
lence  with  a  sort  of  pride.  This  pride  took  for  its 
object  one  significant  fact  of  which  he  frequently 
boasted — namely,  that  he  had  never  been  forced  by 
any  earthly  circumstance  out  of  a  walk  since  laying 
aside  his  short  clothes ;  and  he  often  in  connection 
with  this  boast  advanced  the  wish  to  be  able  to  die 
with  the  consciousness,  that  the  pace  most  consistent 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  199 

with  human  dignity  had  never  been  violated  by  him, 
since  arriving  at  years  of  discretion.  This  eccen 
tricity,  so  often  exhibited,  and  with  such  seriousness, 
came  to  be,  in  the  eyes  of  his  friends  and  acquaint 
ances,  a  fixed  stratum  in  his  character.  It  was  when 
I  was  studying  with  him  that  the  affair  happened 
which  I'm  going  to  tell  you  about.  It  had  been 
long  brewing,  but  could  not  come  to  bead.  At  last  a 
fellow-student — a  splendid  chap — since  dead,  poor 
fellow  ! — brought  it  about.  Without  communicating 
his  design,  he  persuaded  me  to  act  a  part.  He  said 
he  wanted  me  to  take  a  loaded  rifle,  and  go  to  a  cer 
tain  point. — which  he  described  exactly, — at  a  certain 
hour  on  a  day  mentioned,  and  post  myself,  watching 
cautiously.  The  day  came.  Oblivious  of  what  was  in 
the  wind,  I  took  the  rifle,  which  was  carefully  loaded, 
and  proceeded  to  the  place.  My  post  was  at  the 
corner  of  a  large  field,  or  square  inclosed,  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  town,  not  far  from  the  doctor's  house. 
On  a  diagonal  line  from  where  I  stood,  about  fifty 
yards  off,  was  a  large  tree,  the  only  one  in  the  field. 
On  casting  about  to  discover  the  object  of  my  being 
there,  I  saw  an  animal,  which  from  a  mere  glance,  I 
took  to  be  an  ox,  grazing  quietly  near  the  corner,  first 


200  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

to  the  left  from  where  I  was.  I  had  been  standing 
there  nearly  an  hour,  and  was  beginning  to  got  impa 
tient,  when  the  creaking  of  a  large  gate  away  over 
nearly  to  the  opposite  corner,  attracted  my  attention. 
Looking  sharply  in  that  direction,  I  discovered  that 
it  was  the  old  doctor  entering  the  inclosure.  He 
was  coming  from  the  direction  of  his  house,  and  was 
crossing  the  field,  evidently  to  save  distance,  as  in  his 
pedestrian  tours  he  was  always  up  to.  Solemnly 
and  steadily,  he  came  on  straight  towards  me.  Busied 
with  concocting  an  excuse,  which  I  knew  I  should 
have  to  furnish  him  for  being  there,  I  did  not  pay 
further  attention  to  him,  until  I  heard  a  low,  ominous 
bellowing.  Looking  up,  I  saw  the  supposed  ox,  paw 
ing  the  ground,  and  shaking  his  head  fiercely  at  the 
doctor,  who,  becoming  suddenly  aware  of  his  situa 
tion, — being  as  he  was,  though  considerably  past  the 
middle  of  the  field,  yet  some  distance  from  the  cor 
ner, — quickened  his  pace  perceptibly.  I  saw  through 
the  plot  at  a  glance.  Ha !  ha !  Go  it  guns !  ISTow, 
old  man — now  for  a  run.  Ay,  my  old  doctor  ; — but 
no,  he  wouldn't  run  ;  no  earthly  circumstance  should 
force  him  out  of  the  cherished  pace.  Yet  when 
he. saw  the  rampant  animal  start,  and  with  tremeud- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       201 

ous  bounds,  annihilate  the  distance  between  them, 
I  believe  he  would  have  run,  had  he  not  at  about  the 
same  moment  seen  me,  and  also  discerned,  by  my  con 
tortions,  the  state  of  my  mind.  He  was  about  sixty 
yards  from  the  tree,  which  was  his  nearest  point  of 
safety,  if  it  could  be  deemed  anything  more  than  a 
safety-valve  in  his  case. 

On  came  the  fierce  animal,  shortening  the  protecting 
span  of  distance  with  amazing  rapidity ;  and  on  came 
the  glowing  doctor,  now  in  that  doubtful  province, 
between  a  walk  and  a  run.  But  he  would  not  run,— 
no  sir ;  no  earthly  circumstance  should  bring  him  to 
that.  He  expressed  this  unequivocally.  I  could  see 
it  in  the  toes  and  heels  of  his  boots,  in  the  sweep 
of  his  cane,  in  the  wrinkles  of  his  pantaloons,  in  the 
set  of  his  hat.  "  But  you'll  have  to  run,"  said  I 
aloud,  with  a  dash  of  apprehension.  My  apprehen 
sion  deepened.  I  began  to  fear  he  would  sacrifice  his 
life  to  the  eccentric  notion.  Accordingly  I  drew  my 
rifle  to  my  eye.  He  was  near  the  tree. — The  dreadful 
bull — a  bull,  and  no  mistake,  was  within  three  bounds 
of  him.  There  was  a  moment,  I  did  not  look  at  the 
doctor.  When  1  did,  he  was  behind  the  tree,  the 
bull  goring  the  roots  on  the  opposite  side.  It  was  not 

9* 


202  GKEEN  MOUNTAIN 

over  yet,  I  perceived.  After  expending  a  part  of  his 
ftry  on  the  tree,  the  angry  animal  attempted  to  out 
flank  his  victim.  This  was  trying  to  the  doctor  ;  yet 
he  held  his  own  nimbly  and  well,  for  so  huge  a  bulk. 
But  the  bull's  rage  held  on,  and  the  doctor's  strength 
began  to  give  out.  He  was  failing  rapidly.  The 
bull's  horns  once  or  twice  caught  in  the  skirt  of  his 
coat.  There  was  but  one  chance  for  him ;  to  divert 
the  enemy  a  little,  and  run  for  the  fence.  Life 
was  sweet — plum-puddings,  and  canvas-backs  were 
sweeter.  Weighty  considerations.  Indeed,  there 
was  no  other  alternative  but  death  or  life  ;  bull-pud 
ding  or  plum.  Wise  old  physician,  approved  of  the 
faculty,  well-esteemed!  He  snatched  his  red-silk 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  whipped  it  around  his 
cane,  and  shaking  it  in  the  face  of  the  foaming  beast, 
threw  it  as  far  as  he  could.  The  bull  pursued  it,  and 
the  doctor  Tan  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  Reaching 
the  fence,  he  rolled  over  bodily,  falling  upon  the 
ground.  "Oh,  hold  me!"  screamed  a  voice  in  my 
ear,  and  a  hand  grasped  my  arm,  convulsively.  It 
was  my  fellow-student,  completely  beside  himself 
.with  mirth.  Fearing  the  doctor's  vengeance,  we 
vanished  speedily.  What  became  of  the  old  man's 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  203 

wrath  I  don't  know.  He  never  manifested  it  at  all. 
Neither  did  he  thereafter  ever  indulge,  before  us  two 
at  least,  in  his  time-honored  boast."  While  Joshua 
was  relating,  this  we  had  gone  some  distance  into  the 
forest.  "I  never  was  better  pleased  than  with  this," 
observed  Joshua,  referring  to  the  scene.  "  These 
grand,  old  trees  make  me  think  of  ages  past  away. 
Ahasuerus,  Indians  have  looked  upon  these  trees — 
Indians  that  had  never  heard  of  white  men.  Think 
of  that.  Don't  it  take  you  back  ?" 

"Yes,  it  does,"  responded  my  father  with  dry 
emphasis. 

"  I  love  to  wander,"  continued  Joshua,"  in  a  good 
old  wood.  It  makes  me  calm.  There  is  a  spirit  in 
it : — mild,  ancient  spirit  which  I  love.  I  co  " • 

"  Hark !"  interrupted  my  father  with  an  expression 
if  surprise  and  anxiety  upon  his  face. 

"Father!"  It  was  the  piercing  cry  of  despair. 
It  came  from  the  direction  of  old  Abel's  pond,  from 
which  we  were  not  far  off.  We  ran.  As  we  were 
running  we  heard  the  cry  repeated  fainter  than 
before.  "  Help !  help  !"  in  a  gruff  yet  agonized 
voice,  echoed  through  the  forest.  We  quickened  our 
pace.  In  a  few  moments  we  were  out  of  the  wood 


204:  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

in  sight  of  the  pond  hard  by.  Joshua  and  my  father 
were  several  yards  ahead  of  me,  and  I,  not  feeling 
that  I  could  be  of  any  use,  halted  to  look.  In  the 
middle  of  the  pond  was  a  boat  upset,  and  a  short 
distance  from  the  shore  was  a  greyheaded  man  swim 
ming  desperately,  yet  making  but  little  progress, 
towards  the  boat.  By  the  time  Joshua  and  my 
father  had  reached  the  shore,  the  former  had  divested 
himself  of  his  upper  clothing,  and  without  halting  he 
leapt  like  a  deer  far  out  into  the  water,  and  swam 
for  the  boat.  Just  before  he  came  to  it,  the  head  of 
a  boy  arose  swayingly  above  the  surface  near  him. 
With  a  skillful  movement  Joshua  fastened  his  hand 
in  the  boy's  hair,  and  wheeling,  made  for  the  shore. 
My  father  having  in  the  mean  time  secured  a  rail 
from  a  neighboring  fence,  waded  out,  and  with  his 
assistance  Joshua  brought  the  insensible  body  upon 
the  land.  I  was  standing  by  when  they  brought  it 
out,  and  recognized  the  features  at  once.  It  was  old 
Abel's  son — only  child.  He  had  once  been  a  crony 
of  mine.  Samuel  was  his  name.  He  was  the  best 
arithmetic  scholar  in  the  school.  While  I  was  run 
ning  this  over  in  an  excited  manner,  standing  around 
in  the  way,  Joshua  and  my  father  were  trying  to 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  205 

bring  him  to  life.  Old  Abel,  having  swam  the  whoU 
length  of  the  pond,  came  to  their  assistance ;  and 
after  half  an  hour  or  so,  they  succeeded  in  restoring 
animation  to  the  boy.  Upon  .which  old  Abel  took 
him  in  his  arms  tenderly,  and  bore  him  away  towards 
his  home,  and  we  retraced  our  steps.  As  we  were 
walking  through  the  wood  on  our  way  home,  Joshua 
remarked.  "I  wish  I  hadn't  put  a  hand  into  that 
affair." 

"  Why  ?"  said  I,  seeing  my  father  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  the  remark. 

"  Oh,  I  know  the  boy,"  he  replied. 

I  remembered  Sam  had  been  for  a  few  months  past 
in  Harrisburg,  employed  there  as  clerk  in  a  dry 
goods  store.  I  was  about  asking  further  explanation, 
when  he  resumed.  "Deacon,  I  know  you  take  it 
strange.  But  I  don't  like  to  see  such  boys  grow  up. 
He's  of  bad  stock.  And  he's  coming  into  possession 
of  his  legacy  of  meanness.  That  woman  bequeathed 
it  to  him,  cursed  him  with  it.  He  should  have 
drowned,  ay,  he  should  have  drowned  for  all  me,  if  I 
had  known  who  it  was  before  I  went  into  the  water. 
1  would  have  left  him  on  the  shore  there  to  die  after 
we  had  him  out  but  for  a  certain  weakness  I  have-— 


206  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

force  of  habit.  He  should  die,  die  young.  The 
world  don't  need  him.  It  didn't  need — Oh,  bitter 
ness!  Gall!  gall!"  His  voice  was  clogged  with 
emotion,  and  crossing  Jiis  arms  behind  him  he  looked 
sorrowfully  upon  the  ground. 

"Thee  should  be  charitable,"  calmly  enjoined  my 
father. 

Between  surprise  and  conjecture  I  was  considera 
bly  excited,  and  I  listened  eagerly  for  Joshua's  reply. 
But  he  made  none.  Neither  did  my  father  make 
any  more  remarks.  They  were  both  silent  the  rest 
of  the  way;  and  during  the  evening  Joshua  was 
sober,  saying  but  little,  and  that  reluctantly.  "What 
could  it  be  that  so  disturbed  him?  It  was  long 
before  I  knew  anything  about  it ;  and  when  I  did,  I 
only  wondered  he  had  not  been  more  bitter — more 
cast  down. 

In  the  morning  Joshua  was  himself  again,  only 
showing  that  he  remembered  the  last  night's  adven 
ture  by  avoiding  allusion  to  it.  Throughout  the  day, 
except  at  meals,  I  did  not  see  him.  During  the  even 
ing  he  talked  of  .music,  discoursing  two  or  three 
hours,  elaborating  a  system  which  he  intended  to 
present  to  the  world  some  day  or  other,  he  said.  He 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  207 

was  very  tedious,  I  remember.  If  I  had  not  sur 
mised  it  before,  I  saw  then  plainly  that  with  all  his 
good  qualities,  and  clearness  of  understanding,  one 
tiling  was  gone  from  him,  if  it  ever  made  a  part  of 
him,  namely,  a  power  to  perceive  that  the  sphere  of 
music  was  a  forbidden  realm  to  him ;  and  that 
through  fancying — yea,  believing — it  was  not,  he  was 
making  himself  a  laughing-stock,  and  oftentimes  an 
incubus,  where  he  might  be  winning  love  and  com 
manding  respect. 

The  baneful  star  reigned  that  night,  until  some  time 
after  he  went  to  his  room,  and  he  again  courted  the 
"power  of  those  old  masters,"  getting  a  fit  of  cough 
ing,  and  going  to  sleep,  finally. 

This  monomania  was  the  only  unpleasant  thing 
about  him.  I  loved  him  more  and  more,  the  longer 
he  stayed.  He  grew  quite  familiar  with  me,  talking 
to  me  of  subjects  almost  too  abstruse  for  my  untutored 
understanding,  yet  talking  in  so  plain  a  way,  bringing 
the  thing  out  always  so  clearly,  and  was  always  so 
pleasant  and  patient  with  my  foolish,  at-random  sug 
gestions,  unfledged  imaginings,  and  disjointed  analo 
gies,  that  I  loved  him  when  most  mortified,  and  could 
have  sat,  it  seemed  to  me,  for  ever  in  conversation  with 
him — except  when  music  was  his  theme. 


208  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

I  would  like  to  relate  some  more  of  the  many 
things  which  I  remember  of  him  in  connection  with 
this  visit,  but  I  must  hurry  on  to  matters  that  will 
interest  you  more  than  these. 

He  stayed  with  us  about  three  weeks.  The  hour 
of  his  departure  was  a  sad  one  to  me — sad  to  us  all. 
It  was  a  quiet,  sunny  morning,  early.  We  stood  at 
the  gate,  Joshua  outside,  his  portmanteau  slung  upon 
his  arm.  Everything  was  so  quiet.  A  dreamy  sense, 
a  reverie,  rested  upon  us  all — seemed  to  rest  upon 
every  living  thing  around  us.  We  stood  there,  loth 
to  say  "  good-by !"  We  were  getting  quite  sorrowful. 
Something  must  be  said,  and  Joshua  said  it  beam 
ingly,  breaking  the  charm.  "  My  very  dear  friends, 
I  don't  like  such  antitheses.  This  isn't  the  way  you 
looked  when  I  came  here.  You  must  bear  in  mind 
that  me  ye  have  not  always,  neither  can.  I  am  a 
bird  of  passage — of  the  species  of  vulture  it  is  true. 
I  am,  too,  superannuated.  It  is  said,  'Time  and  tide 
wait  for  no  man.'  I  do  not  ask  them  to  tarry ;  but 
take  Time  by  the  forelock  and  lead  him  on  his  way 
and  I  laugh  at  the  slothful  tide.  What's  the  use . 
This  going  back  foremost  into  the  Kingdom,  I  hold 
to  be  a  shameful  reversing  of  manly  energies.  When 
I  go,  I  soeth,  mv  friends ;  when  I  come,  it  is  the 


iiiAVELLERS'    ENTERTAINMENT.  209 

same.  JSTo  wind  is  more  free,  never  was.  When  \ 
love,  I  love.  You  know  that,  my  good  Catherine, 
yon  know  that,  Ahasuerns.  And  when  I  hate,  I  hate. 
You  know  that,  too.  I  love  you  all.  God  knows  my 
heart,  I  do.  Catherine,  good-by!" — He  took  her 
hand. — ''  You  were  kind  to  me  once.  May  you  shine 
the  brighter  in  Heaven  for  it !  Brave  Ahasuerus, 
you  are  growing  grey  in  the  battle.  Time  is  out 
flanking  you.  But  be  stout  to  the  end.  Good-by ! 
That  was  an  honest  tear,  Ahasuerus.  Do  you  remem 
ber  when  you  saw  me  weep  ?  There  was  a  desert 
around  me  then.  It  drank  all  the  tears  of  my  life, — • 
a  bitter  yielding  up,  a  greedy  draught !  Do  not  think 
me  heartless.  Cynthia,  sweet  girl,  may  you  be  blest. 
You  deserve  it.  Love  him, — I  am  serious  now, — love 
him,  but  not"  with  all  your  heart.  Good-by !  Dea 
con,"  he  concluded,  turning  to  me,  "you're  too 
young  for  such  a  strain.  Be  a  good  boy.  Think 
sometimes  of  her  who  lies  in  that  grove  yonder.  It 
will  not  hurt  you  any.  I  must  hurry.  "Well,  come 
and  see  me.  I  think  now  my  business  is  so  arranged 
that  I  can  visit  you  oftener.  I  must.  You  will  hear 
from  me  before  long.  Write."  It  was  the  last  word, 
spoken  as  he  hurried  away. 

My  heart  was   heavy  all  that  day.     There  was   a 


210  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

dismalness  about  the  house,  about  the  barn,  in  the 
field,  the  old  forest ; — upon  everything  in  fact,  associ 
ated  with  Joshua,  rested  an  invisible  shadow,  which  I 
felt.  Nobody  said  anything  at  dinner,  nor  at  supper, 
nor  in  the  evening.  Everything  was  quiet,  very 
quiet.  Towards  btd-time,  as  I  sat  musing,  generally 
impressed  with  Joshua  in  the  various  phases  pre 
sented  by  my  memory,  my  mind  centered  all  at  once 
upon  some  expressions  in  his  valedictory  of  the  morn 
ing.  "  Do  you  remember  when  you  saw  me  weep  ? 
There  was  a  desert  around  me  then  ?"  And  what  he 
said  to  my  mother.  "  You  were  kind  to  me  once." 
They  were  mysterious  expressions  to  me.  Yet  my 
father  and  mother  understood  them.  They  seemed 
to  shed  tears  more  at  them  than  at  his  going  away. 
His  remarks  after  saving  the  drowning  boy,  too  : — 
they  all  referred  to  some  passage  of  his  life-history 
that  had  a  deep  and  mournful  interest.  So  much  I 
conjectured  ;  but  could  go  no  further.  I  wanted  to 
know  more.  My  parents  could  tell  me.  I  would 
ask  them. 

"Father,"  said  I,  "what  did  Joshua  mean  this 
morning  when  he  talked  about  thy  knowing  when  he 
wept?" 

My  father  made  no  reply  ;  but  in  a  minute  or  two 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  211 

my  mother  said,  looking  solemnly  at  me.  "  My  son, 
thy  father  must  not  teL  thee.  Cynthia  does  not 
know,  and  thou  must  not."  I  knew  it  would  be  vain 
to  push  the  matter,  so  I  dropped  it,  reverting  to  his 
remarks  again.  There  was  something  he  had  said 
which  I  could  not  at  first  recall.  I  could  remember 
that  it  touched  me  deeply  when  spoken.  But  the 
expression.  I  strove  to  recall  it  for  some  time  in 
vain.  "  Think  of  her  who  lies  in  that  grove  yonder !" 
That  was  it.  My  parents  had  told  him  of  my  bereave 
ment,  and  his  good  heart  had  felt  for  me ;  and  from 
that  remark  I  saw  that  he  had  thought  of  me  and  her 
together,  perhaps — it  was  but  a  dim  conjecture  then, 
which  hardly  took  the  form  of  thought — not  wholly 
separate  from  his  own  youthful  experience. 

When  I  went  to  my  room,  which  I  did  early, 
everybody  and  everything  appeared  so  gloomy — I 
sought  out  the  little  casket  in  my  trunk  which  con 
tained  the  dear  gift — the  pocket-Bible  that  had  once 
been  Seraph's.  I  opened  the  precious  volume,  and 
read  for  the  thousandth  time  the  fondly  remembered 
name.  It  had  been  written  with  a  pencil,  and  was 
almost  erased ;  still  I  could  trace  the  lines  in  all  their 
delicate  windings ;  and,  as  was  my  custom,  I  traced 


212  GKEEN  MOUNTAIN 

them  then  ;  and  they  became,  as  they  had  always,  a 
mirror  held  to  the  past — the  sunny  past.  Peculiarly 
distinct  were  the  oft-recalled  impressions  that  night. 
"With  peculiar  force  they  touched  me.  A  sweet 
reverie,  almost  like  a  dream,  came  upon  me ;  and  for 
a  long  time  I  sat,  or  rather  knelt  there,  before  my 
trunk,  holding  the  little  volume,  and  looked  into  the 
magic  mirror.  I  wandered — stopping  here  and  there 
— back  into  the  far  perspective,  even  to  the  rivulet  in 
the  old  meadow,  and  heard  again  its  prophesy.  But 
there  was  now  something  happy  in  the  memory  of  its 
voice, — I  had  felt  it  before  : — perhaps  it  was  not  the 
rivulet's  voice  alone : — it  was  something  of  Immor 
tality.  My  soul  caught  the  strain.  Vibrating,  it 
kindled  my  imagination,  and  a  vision  new  and 
strange  opened  upon  me.  It  was  a  vision  of  the 
future — of  the  distant  future.  It  was  very  enraptur 
ing,  but  brief,  coming  and  fading  like  a  blinding 
flash.  Yet  it  turned  the  current  of  my  thoughts.  I 
closed  the  little  book  and  put  it  away,  and  went  to 
bed,  wishing  for  that  hour  to  come  which  would 
bring  me  to  Seraph,  and  her  to  me,  to  be  happy 
for  ever,  both  of  us. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbatlu     I  attended  at  the 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  213 

old  place  of  worship  with  my  parents.  It  was  an 
unassuming,  antiquated  building,  in  its  dotage,  yet 
out  of  deference — I  know  no  other  reason — occupied 
still.  It  stood  at  a  four-corners,  nearly  a  mile  from 
the  village,  and  something  over  half  that  distance 
from  our  house.  A  peaceful  location  it  was,  like  the 
congregation  of  quiet-loving  spirits  that  had  for  more 
than  half  a  century  met  there  from  time  to  time  to 
do  homage  to  their  God.  A  pleasant  grove  sur 
rounded  the  building,  as  if  protecting  it.  In  the 
grove  were  some  pines  —  stalwart,  ever  holding 
legendary  converse  with  the  winds.  The  grave-yard 
was  there  in  that  grove,  occupying  the  corner 
opposite  the  sanctified  structure.  How  natural,  how 
beautiful  the  sentiment  of  our  fathers,  that  the  dead 
must  sleep  where  the  living  meet  to  worship  ! 

After  worship  I  went  into  the  grave-yard.  As  I 
stood  by  the  mound  so  hallowed,  I  felt  to  reproach 
myself  quite  bitterly  that  I  had  not  been  there 
oftener  of  late.  Only  the  fourth  time  since  spring 
had  opened,  and  it  was  almost  June.  Yet  the  place 
had  an  enchantment  about  it.  I  felt  it  when  I  was 
there.  Why  did  I  not  come  oftener  ?  I  had  not  for 
gotten  Seraph — oh,  my  heart !  no.  New.  objects  had 


214:  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

come  to  divert  me.  Upon  the  great  Stream  oi  Time 
I  was  being  borne  away.  Yet  it  was  not  altogether 
these.  I  knew  it  then.  There  was  a  voice  whisper 
ing  to  my  secret  soul — never  more  distinctly  than  on 
that  serene  Sabbath  afternoon,  while  I  stood  looking 
upon  the  silent  grave — that  she,  dear  Seraph,  was 
with  me  always,  living,  watching,  communing  witli 
me.  Her  body  was  of  earth — dust,  her  spirit  a 
sentient  being — of  heaven.  I  lingered  an  hour  or 
so,  and  then  walked  away  homeward  lightsomely. 
There  was  a  change  within  me.  I  perceived  it,  yet 
did  not  remark  it.  I  should  no  more  look  back}  as 
for  the  last  few  months  I  had.  Forward  I  saw — 
dimly,  a  glimpse — I  saw  a  life  opening  before  me. 
A  life  of  realities,  pleasant  they  seemed  to  me  then, 
gorgeous  realities.  Then  a  going  down  into  the 
Valley  of  Shadows,  and  a  glorious  uprising  for  ever 
more  !  I  saw,  and  wras  happy.  Who  showed  it 
me  ?  "Who  taught  my  soul  to  believe  it  ?  I  was 
what  the  world  terms  visionary  then,  though  I  had 
scarcely  learned  to  think.  I  am  so  now,  having 
learned.  These  things  were  not  the  offspring  of  my 
unaided  mind.  Seraph.  She  lives. 
In  a  few  days  the  general  gloom  which  Joshua's 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  215 

departure  had  brought  down,  passed  off,  and  I 
resumed  the  routine  of  duties,  manual  and  other,  with 
cheerfulness  and  abundant  hope.  The  summer  went 
by  genially,  bringing,  among  its  other  natural  pro 
ductions,  a  long  letter  from  Harrisburg,  signed  with 
a  prodigious  flourish,  and  a  stray  quirk  or  two,  by 
way  of  ornament — "  Joshua  Noyles."  It  was  a  very 
amusing  and  interesting  letter  to  all  of  us  ;  and  was 
read  and  re-read  until,  through  fear  of  its  total  de 
struction,  my  mother  locked  it  up  in  the  bureau 
drawer,  and  we,  that  is  Cynthia  and  I,  gradually  for 
got' it. 

The  autumn  came,  at  once  gay  and  mournful,  as 
death  should  be.  It  was  late  in  that  season.  "Winter 
was  showing  itself  on  the  mountains,  impatient  to 
begin  its  work  in  the  silent  valleys.  It  was  a  gloomy 
day.  There  were  thick  clouds  in  place  of  the  sky, 
and  it  was  cold.  I  had  been  husking  corn  in  the 
field  all  day.  As  I  came  in  from  my  work  I  was 
met  at  the  door  by  Cynthia,  who  was  so  flushed  and 
smiling  that  I  knew  she  had  something  to  tell  me. 
"  Who  do  you  think  has  got  home  ?"  she  asked, 
betraying  by  her  form  of  expression  what  she  evi 
dently  wished  to  conceal.  I  guessed  right  the  first 


216  GBEEN   MOUNTAIN 

time,  greatly  to  her  surprise.  "  Fanny  Cline,"  said 
I ;  "  and  I  want  to  see  her."  I  wanted  to  see  her 
because  she  was  Seraph's  sister.  She  had  been  next 
in  the  series  older  than  Seraph,  and  was  now  the 
youngest  of  the  family.  In  times  past  I  had  been 
acquainted  with  her,  yet  never  familiarly.  She  was 
about  a  year  older  than  I,  and  while  Seraph  lived 
she  had  seemed  so  much  older,  that  I  hardly  ever 
thought  of  her,  except  as  an  older  sister,  like  Cyn 
thia.  The  youngest  now.  There  were  two  other 
sisters,  considerably  older,  both  married ;  and  a  bach 
elor  brother,  the  eldest  of  the  children  ;  the  father 
and  mother,  exemplary  Friends  and  citizens,  middle- 
aged,  grey,  weather-beaten,  hardy  people,  and  withal 
intelligent :  such  was  the  family  of  Clines. 

Fajiny,  since  Seraph's  death,  had  been  absent,  stay 
ing  with  the  maiden  aunt,  and  was  just  returned, 
much  increased  in  stature,  and  in  beauty,  too.  So 
Cynthia  said,  as  we  walked  in  together.  I  found  it 
true.  I  had  used  to  think  she  was  handsome,  her 
cheeks  were  so  red,  and  her  lips ;  her  eyes  so  spark 
ling  ;  her  long,  silken  hair,  which  hung  and  waved  in 
such  luxuriant  ringlets ;  and  more  than  all,  the  imper 
turbable  cheerfulness  of  her  disposition.  Now  she 


TRAVELLEES*  ENTERTAINMENT.       217 

appeared  beautiful,  decidedly  so.  She  still  wore 
her  hair  loose.  It  was  very  luxuriant,  of  a  dark 
auburn.  Her  eyes  were  dark  and  somewhat  large, 
at  once  tender  and  sparkling  as  of  yore — yet  more 
tender.  Her  mouth  was  most  exquisitely  chiselled, 
and  around  it  reposed,  looking  sweetest  in  repose,  a 
peculiar  expression  which  gave  an  exhaustless  charm 
to  her  countenance.  So  I  found  her  sitting  in  Cyn 
thia's  room,  glowing  with  health — indeed  the  picture 
of  it,  it  appeared  to  me.  Perhaps  it  was  not  all  that 
which  made  her  so  ruddy.  I  was  glad  to  see  her, 
because  she  was  Seraph's  sister ;  and  in  the  excess  of 
my  friendship  I  kissed  her.  She  was  going  to  resist 
me ;  but  I  think  she  divined  my  sentiment,  and 
received  the  offering  approvingly.  After  the  first 
ebullition,  I  was  very  calm,  much  calmer  than  she 
was.  "We  talked  together  of  the  changes  that  had 
taken  place  since  her  going  away,  gravely,  like  older 
people.  Then  we  talked  of  the  more  distant  past ; 
and  spoke  with  subdued  voices  of  the  dear  one.  She 
wept,  but  I  did  not.  She  was  very  sad,  and  I  strove 
to  comfort  her  in  the  same  manner  as  I  had  been 
comforted.  I  spun  my  efforts  to  considerable  length, 
finding  it  very  pleasant  to  talk  to  her, — so  pleasant 

10 


218  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

that  I  departed  from  the  main  object  several  times, 
becoming  quite  personal,  toying  with  her  soft  hair — 
we  were  on  a  settee,  side  by  side — and  wadding  up 
her  handkerchief,  much  to  her  inconvenience. 
Finally  she  became  cheerful,  and.  we  familiarly 
talked  and  laughed,  mainly  about  the  old  clothes  1 
had  on,  which  began  to  embarrass  me  a  little.  Before 
that  theme  was  entirely  exhausted,  the  evening  was 
up.  I  escorted  Fanny  home,  feeling  more  and  more 
foolish  because  of  my  apparel,  and  when  I  parted 
from  her,  before  saying  "  good  night,"  I  had  to  offer 
a  serious  apology  for  my  exterior. 

The  next  day,  at  my  work,  I  had  a  new  theme  of 
reflection.  Yet  I  did  not  think  so  much  as  I  felt  on 
the  subject.  So  beautiful  she  was.  I  believe  every 
dozenth  pulsation  of  my  heart  all  that  day,  brought 
her  image  in  some  phase  or  other  before  me.  Physi 
cal  deformities  of  mine — and  I  was  astonished  as 
well  as  pained  to  find  so  many — became  disagreeably 
prominent.  It  was  a  very  long  day,  too  :  I  seemed  to 
have  lived  a  week  in  it.  Yet  I  was  not  in  love,  only 
beginning  to  be ;  quite  earnestly,  however,  it  must 
be  confessed. 

Fanny,  Fanny,  Fanny.     I  wrote  it  in  the  snow.     I 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  219 

wrote  it  on  my  slate.  I  wrote  it  very  elaborately  on 
an  enamelled  card,  with  ornamental  touches  in  red 
ink — wrote  the  name  in  full,  Fanny  Cline.  I  showed 
the  card  to  her  when  she  next  came  to  visit  Cynthia, 
which  was  about  a  week  after  the  interview  described. 
It  was  about  all  I  could  do,  I  was  so  painfully  embar 
rassed  in  her  presence.  The  sentiment  had  grown 
upon  me  amazingly  during  that  w^eek.  She  praised 
the  chirography  exhibited  on  the  card,  and  with  a 
very  sweet  smile,  told  me  that  if  I  would  do  my  own 
name  in  the  same  manner  upon  another  card,  she 
would  keep  it  as  a  gift. 

The  two  interviews,  that  is,  the  first  and  this, 
differed  principally  in  character  in  her  doing  the  most 
of  the  talking,  and  my  becoming  an  enchanted 
listener.  I  could  do  nothing  but  smile.  I  felt  very 
loose  and  buoyant ;  and  when  I  attempted  to  steady 
myself  into  something  like  a  dignified  mien — which  I 
experienced  a  growing  necessity  of — it  seemed  as 
though  I  had  no  foundation,  and  it  was  like  steadying, 
or  trying  to,  a  very  rampant  balloon.  I  smiled  on 
still,  not  saying  anything  that  I  could  bear  to  recall ; 
and  when  she  went  away,  I  labored  under  the  general 
impression  that  I  had  acted  a  very  silly  part.  Some- 


220  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

thing  must  be  done,  I  thought,  or  I  should  be  for  ever 
disgraced  in  her  eyes.  She  would  come  again  the 
next  Sabbath  evening,  so  she  had  told  Cynthia.  A 
petition  was  sent  up,  and  to  my  surprise  met  with 
immediate  attention,  namely,  to  fit  me  out  with  a 
new  suit  of  clothes,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of 
appearing  respectably  at  church — my  then  existing 
Sunday  suit,  it  was  urged,  being  inadequate  to  that 
end.  Within  four  days  I  was  fitted  to  my  satisfaction. 
So  much  done.  The  card  was  written  on  next,  very 
successfully.  I  was  prepared.  The  Sabbath  came — • 
the  evening.  And  Fanny  came.  When  I  thought 
she  and  Cynthia  had  been  together  a  proper  length 
of  time,  I  went  to  her  room,  "  dressed  to  death,"  and 
ushered  myself  into  their  presence.  For  a  few 
minutes  I  succeeded  in  passing  myself  for  a  civil 
young  gentleman  in  his  teens,  but  the  very  first  time 
Fanny  looked  into  my  face  with  that  bewitching 
smile  of  hers,  I  relapsed  helplessly  into  the  old  state, 
imbecile  as  ever.  I  brought  forth  the  card,  but  her 
praises  only  sank  me  deeper.  I  reverted  to  my  new 
suit.  It  did  no  good. — It  was  absolutely  nothing,  and 
worse,  for  I  felt  unworthy  of  the  clothes.  After  a  few 
minutes  there  was  a  reaction,  and  I  felt  better — only 


TEAVELLEB8     ENTERTAINMENT. 

better.  I  knew  I  ought  not  to  stay  there  and  immo 
late  my  dignity  in  that  manner.  But  I  could  not  get 
away.  Besides  the  allurement  to  remain,  I  knew  that 
if  I  should  attempt  to  break  loose,  all  that  had  gone 
before  would  be  swallowed  up  in  the  enormous  awk 
wardness  with  which  I  should  accomplish  it.  It  was 
of  no  use.  I  was  in  the  vortex,  and  as  effectually 
lost  as  any  poor  seafaring  wretch  in  the  great  mael 
strom.  I  became  patient  and  felt  better  still — quite 
refreshed,  as  one  feels  after  a  storm  in  hot  weather.  I 
actually  made  two  or  three  remarks  just  before 
starting  home  with  her,  that  I  felt  in  some  degree 
proud  of. 

When  we  parted  that  night,  I  dared  to  press  her 
hand ;  warm  and  velvety  it  was,  only  these ;  there  was 
no  response.  It  was  a  desperate  act  of  mine,  and  as 
I  walked  homeward,  it  occurred  to  me  that  possibly 
the  rash  venture  had  given  her  offence.  The  suspi 
cion  was  anguishing,  and  I  could  not  repel  it.  The 
only  alleviation  I  had  was  the  thought  that  the  act 
was  past  recall,  and  I  could  only  show  by -future  con 
duct  how  much  I  reprobated  it. 

The  next  day,  Monday,  I  commenced  going  to 
school.  I  was  getting  to  be  quite  a  large  boy — a 


222  .       GKKEN    MOUNTAIN 

young  man,  I  thought — so  I  went  this  winter  to  the 
village-school,  a  select  affair,  where  everything  was 
very  prim,  and  advanced,  things  and  scholars  bearing 
the  stamp  of  the  tutor,  a  sickly  young  elder,  who, 
being  unable  to  perform  his  sacerdotal  duties,  had 
taken  to  teaching.  I  disliked  him  at  first.  II is  pre- 
ciseness  and  dryness  of  manner  sifted  upon  me 
suffocatingly,  and  I  went  home  the  first  night  regret 
ting  deeply  that  I  had  committed  myself  so  much 
as  to  commence. 

But  I  did  not  dislike  him  so  much  the  second  day. 
The  third  not  so  much.  And  when  it  came  Saturday 
night,  I  found  myself  looking  forward  to  Monday 
again,  with  some  pleasure. 

Sabbath  evening,  Fanny  was  at  our  house  as  usual. 
I  had  something  to  talk  about  that  time,  and  as  long 
as  the  fund  lasted,  I  passed.  But  that  was  not  long, 
and  the  first  thing  that  visited  me  when  I  began  to 
feel  barren,  was  the  remembrance  of  my  foolish  act 
in  the  dark,  a  week  before.  It  crushed  me  for  the 
instant  quite  flat,  but  I  was  directly  comforted  with 
the  reflection  that  her  conduct  did  not  show  that  she 
remembered  it,  and — strange  vicissitude  of  feeling! — a 
desire  to  do  it  over  again  sprang  up.  I  had  the 


TRAVELLERS'  EXTERTAIXMEXT.  223 

escorting  of  her  as  usual.  But  it  was  very  cold,  and 
elie  kept  her  hands  in  her  muff.  Could  I  put  mine 
in  there  too?  Then  I  had  a  suspicion  that  it  was  not 
the  dangerous  weather  either  that  made  her  so  jealous 
of  those  pretty  hands,  though  they  were  tender.  But 
I  was  attending  a  select  school,  in  the  village.  There 
were  other  girls.  Handsome  ones.  I  did  not  feel, 
therefore,  so  dependent  as  formerly.  In  fact,  this 
time  I  was  myself  offended — a  little.  What  changes  ! 
— apparent. 

Notwithstanding,  I  thought  of  Fanny  frequently 
that  week,  more  towards  the  latter  part,  as  the 
novelty  of  my  new  place  was  wearing  away. 

Sunday  night  again  I  saw  her.  The  same  sorry, 
unsatisfactory  figure  again  I  cut,  or  rather  mangled. 

v  O  O  O 

I  never  should  mend  it,  so  it  seemed. '  That  night, 
for  the  first  time,  I  became  sensible  of  a  melancholy, 
on  account  of  my  dismal  relation  to  the  adored 
Fanny — adored  now.  I  was  in  love  in  earnest, 
though  not  yet  quite  fifteen.  To  be  sure  I  have 
had  impulses  of  passion  since,  to  which  that  was  but 
a  small  lambent  flame ;  but  then  it  was  as  serious  as 
it  has  ever  been. 

Sweet  Fanny,  I  love  thee.    It  was  a  secret  thought, 


224  GRFEN    MOUNTAIN 

first-sighed  in  secret  with  a  gush  of  rapture.  Then  I 
ventured  it  upon  my  slate,  written  half  of  it  at  a 
time,  and  rubbed  out  instantly.  Then  out  in  full,  to 
be  looked  at.  Directly  it  was  down  on  a  piece  of 
paper.  The  paper  was  torn  up  and  chewed.  Then 
it  was  very  carefully  written  on  fine  paper  in  red  ink 
— symbolic — and  some  other  words  were  added 
including  my  given  name.  Saturday  afternoon  it 
was  done.  Sunday  evening,  in  great  agitation,  I 
secretly  slipped  it  into  Fanny's  muff  as  it  lay  on 
Cynthia's  table.  That  night  Cynthia  went  home 
with  her.  Why  ?  I  had  not  been  private  enough. 
Ay,  I  was  caught !  But  I  couldn't  help  it.  And,  in 
truth,  I  did  not  care.  I'd  not  be  ashamed  of  my  feel 
ings.  Cynthia  might  laugh ;  but  it  wouldn't  make 
Fanny  less  sweet.  Alas !  it  might  lessen  me  in  her 
eyes.  The  thought  was  bitter,  like  nettles,  and  stung 
like  them  too.  But  I  was  launched.  Tilings  must 
take  their  course.  This  was  my  conclusion,  and  I 
went  to  bed  upon  it. 

The  week  was  long  and  fruitful  of  impracticable 
plans — I  could  not  let  things  take  their  course- — 
founded  upon  conditional  circumstances.  Plans  as 
to  my  getting  out  of  the  scrape,  or  getting  further 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  225 

into  it,  or  getting  along  with  it.  I  was,  or  fancied  I 
was,  indifferent  as  to  wliicli.  I  call  them  impracti 
cable  ;  for  when  Saturday  night  came,  not  one 
remained,  and  I  ingenuously  opened  my  eyes  on  the 
Sabbath  to  receive  my  renewed  anticipation  of  the 
evening  in  as  blank,  unfortified  a  state  as  ever. 

It  grew  dark  very  slowly  that  evening.  The  twi 
light  clung  like  a  stain.  The  stars  came  out 
reluctantly.  The  clock  was  unaccountably  lazy,  yet 
kept  pace  with  the  time.  The  phenomena  almost 
made  me  feel  superstitious.  The  time  wTent  slower 
and  slower,  and  by  seven  o'clock  it  seemed  to  have 
stopped  altogether.  I  could  hold  on  no  longer. 

"  Why " — I  checked  myself,  fearing  to  betray 
irritation,  and  passing  my  hand  over  my  face  the 
more  to  mask  my  feelings,  added,  "  How  is  Fanny 
to-day  ?  Hast  thou  seen  her  ?"  to  Cynthia. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  her  this  afternoon,"  she  replied,  with 
out  looking  directly  at  me.  "  She  is  well,  very 
well." 

I  thought — indeed  I  was  quite  sure — I  saw  a  nest 
of  suppressed  wrinkles  struggling  around  her  eyes 
and  mouth,  and  the  next  instant  I  was  submerged  as 
it  were  with  a  tepid  wave.  All  along  through  the 


2:26  GHI-:I:J\  MOUNTAIN 

day,  arid  up  to  that  moment,  1  had  avoided  thinking 
directly  of  the  last  Sunday  evening's  circumstance. 
Now  I  could  not  help  it.  And  worse,  I  could  think 
of  nothing  else.  Oh,  the  night !  For  a  youngster  not 
mucli  acquainted  with  real  troubles- — yet  somewhat, 
too — I  was  very  miserable.  I  had  wounded  the  bird 
I  would  tenderly  have  caught,  and  she  had  flown. 
Until  after  midnight  I  lay  wide  awake  in  trial, 
striving  to  buckle  on  the  panoply  of  indifference.  I 
had  at  first  some  imaginary  success.  But  there  were 
two  or  three  things  that  held  out — among  which  my 
dignity.  Chafed  with  the  consciousness  that  a  great 
fool  had  existed  for  the  past  month  under  my  name, 
it  would  not  yield,  and  in  a  state  of  total  discomfiture 
I  fell  asleep. 

During  the  week  that  followed,  I  increased  my 
endeavors,  not  only  to  induce  indifference  towards 
what  I  had  done,  but  towards  the  prime  cause.  I 
addressed  myself  to  study  with  assiduity ;  and,  as 
opportunity  occurred,  sought  *to  enlarge  my  acquain 
tance  among  the  young  ladies  of  the  school.  In  this 
latter  I  succeeded  amazingly.  I  had  had  no  idea  I 
was  so  popular.  I  suppose  there  was  something 
about  me  very  pleasing  to  the  other  sex.  At  any 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTKKTAINMKNT.       227 

rate  there  seemed  to  be  from  the  reception  I  met 
with  at  once.  All  smiles  and  laughter  they  were, 
sacrificing  themselves  entirely  to  please  me.  It  was 
agreeable,  that's  a  fact,  and  diverted  me — so  far 
answering  the  purpose  for  which  I  had  sought  their 
society.  With  the  social  enjoyment  thus  afforded, 
and  the  new  interest  which  my  studies  gave,  I  passed 
along  very  smoothly,  getting  through  the  next  Sab 
bath  evening  with  only  a  few  sage  reflections,  in 
which  there  was  some  satisfaction  ;  for  the  fact  of 
Fanny's  not  being  at  our  house  confirmed  me  entirely 
in  my  supposition,  which  caused  me  to  view  the 
whole  affair  in  the  aspect  of  a  necessary  evil.  I  was 
quite  philosophical  for  a  youth — the  more  so,  perhaps, 
for  having  just  read  a  long  letter  from  Joshua,  which 
had,  strangely  enough,  a  good  deal  in  it  bearing 
pretty  directly  upon  the  question.  Yet  all  the  while 
I  had  a  sense  like  being  on  thin  ice  over  fathomless 
depths. 

But  the  ice  grew  thicker,  and  time  went  steadily 
on.  For  several  weeks,  .perhaps  two  months,  I  did 
not  see  Fanny,  except  at  divine  worship  on  the  Sab 
bath,  and  that  was  the  same  as  not  seeing  her  at  all. 
Accidentally — I  had  no  reason  to  think  otherwise  then 


228  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

—one  evening  as  I  returned  from  school,  I  met  her 
between  our  house  and  hers.  She  was  humming  a 
scrap  of  music  in  a  very  lively  mood,  and  said  "  good 
evening "  to  me  with  great  cheerfulness  of  manner, 
but  went  straight  by  me,  though  I  halted,  for  I  had  it 
in  my  heart  to  say  something  more.  As  I  stood  look 
ing  at  her  receding  form,  which  seemed  to  float 
rather  than  walk,  the  depths  throbbed — but  the  ice 
did  not  break. 

It  was  getting  to  be  spring.  Harrow-shaped  flocks 
of  wild-geese,  and  vast  flocks  of  pigeons  were  flying  to 
the  northward.  The  snow  had  mostly  disappeared, 
clinging  in  a  dull  icy  form  only  in  obscure  hollows, 
and  here 'and  there  along  the  northern  side  of  stone 
fences.  Black-birds  were  making  vocal  the  swamps 
and  lowlands,  and  early  flowers  were  springing  up  in 
the  woods.  The  select  school  was  closed,  and  I  was 
at  home  working  on  the  farm.  It  was  a  warm,  serene 
day — cloudless,  and  full  of  hope.  I  was  in  the  field 
pretending  to  labor,  yet  preferring  rest,  which  I  was 
indulging  in  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak.  I  was 
sitting  on  the  fence,  basking  in  the  sunshine,  and 
musing  upon  the  events  of  the  past  winter.  I  was 
Bad.  Much  as  I  had  disliked  my  teacher  at  first,  J 


TRAVELLERS"  ENTERTAINMENT.       229 

had  come  to  love  him.  He  had  been  always  kind  to 
me,  and  now  I  was  thinking  of  his  kindness,  of  his 
misfortunes,  and  of  the  likelihood  of  my  never  seeing 
him  again,  as  his  health  was  very  poor,  and  every 
body  said  he  wrould  die  soon.  I  was  thinking  of  the 
hour  of  parting ;  how  he  ranged  us  in  a  semicircle, 
and  shook  hands  with  each,  saying  "good  by  !"  and 
how  the  tears  ran  down  his  pale,  hollow  cheeks,  as  he 
went  on  in  the  painful  ceremony,  and  how  each  one, 
when  his  or  her  turn  was  past,  went  away  weeping. 
From  these  sorrowful  recollections  I  was  aroused  by 
the  sound  of  voices.  1  looked  up,  and  saw  Cynthia 
and  Fanny  approaching.  They  were  coming  leisurely 
across  the  field,  right  towards  me.  I  thought  they 
did  not  see  me,  and  being  afraid  of  becoming  privy  to 
their  artless  remarks,  I  leapt  briskly  off  the  fence  and 
hawked  sonorously.  It  was  gratuitous. 

"  Lazy  boy !"  cried  Cynthia  playfully,  "  sitting  on 
the  fence  all  day.  I'll  tell  father." 

"  How  do  ye  do,  ladies  ?"  said  I  with  a  low  bow. 

""What?"  inquired  Cynthia,  catching  her  breath 
in  the  midst  of  a  laugh.  I  repeated  the  performance, 
which,  from  my  confusion,  proved  a  bad  imitation. 

"We   are  all  well,  except  the  family,"   she  res- 


230  GltEKN    MOUNTAIN 

ponded.  Then  they  both  laughed,  Fanny  blushing 
and  looking  down.  I  could  see.  no  point  to  the 
remark,  yet  I  laughed  as  though  I  did,  and  so  they 
came  up  to  me,  Fanny  leaning  on  Cynthia's  arm, 
looking  so  fresh  and  beautiful !  It  was  going — the 
ice.  I  cast  a  stern  glance  at  her  as  an  anchor.  I  felt 
justified  in  so  doing.  Why  should  she  tempt  me? — • 
the  witch.  For  a  moment — the  smallest  fraction  of 
an  ordinary  moment — her  eyes  met  mine.  My  soul ! 
it  was  too  late.  The  fountains  of  the  great  deep  were 
broken  up. 

"  Well,  brother,  how  dost  thou  like  work  ?"  asked 
my  sister  soberly.  I  was  smiling  on  Fanny — all 
smile  it  seemed  to  me— and  answered.  "  Very  well." 

"Thou  h'ndest  it  rather  hard  I  reckon,"  remarked 
Fanny,  her  voice  musically  sweet. 

"  Oh  !"  I  commenced,  as  though  in  harmony  with 
some  imaginary  music,  then  dropping  to  the  key  of 
practical  life  I  ended,  "rather  hard."  But  I  was  not 
thinking  of  what  she  was.  Daily  labor  was  forgotten. 
I  was  very  much  confused. 

To  my  temporary  relief,  my  sister  at  this  point  dis 
covered  some  beauty  or  oddity  in  my  jacket  buttons, 
and  entered  into  an  examination  of  them — tern 


TKAVK.I.LMIS1    KNTKKTAINMENT.  231 

porary  ;  for  in  so  doing  she  pulled  Fanny  close  to  me. 
The  emanating  glow  of  her  healthful  presence — I  felt 
it  flooding  me  with  rapture.  Cynthia  induced  her  to 
touch  with  her  finger  one  of  the  buttons  she  was 
examining.  As  she  withdrew  her  hand,  mine  by 
strange  coincidence  was  rising,  and  they  met  softly 
palm  to  palm, — but  an  instant ;  both  withdrew  as 
though  each  had  touched  a  serpent. 

"  Cynthia,  let  us  go  back,"  said  Fanny,  looking 
towards  the  house  and  away  from  me. 

"Well,  as  thou  mindest,"  responded  my  sister 
cheerfully,  and  wheeling  gracefully,  they  went  away 
arm  in  arm  as  they  had  come — yet  soberly. 

"  Oh,  my  angel !"  I  whispered  fervently,  my  burn 
ing  eyes  resting  upon  the  adored  form.  "  Oh, 
misery !"  loaded  the  next  breath.  "  She  does  not 
love  me.  She  will  not  love.  What  shall  I  do  ?"  I 
was  overwhelmed  with  melancholy.  All  that  I  had 
done  to  fortify  myself — all  my  fancied  security,  gone 
as  chaff.  "  Dear,  dear  Fanny.  Cruel  Fanny.  She 
might  love  me.  There  is  nothing  hateful  about  me, 

*— '  O 

I  know.  Other  girls,  prouder  than  she,  are  glad  of 
my  attentions.  She  shuns  me  as  if  I  were  wild  and 
filthy,  or  wicked,  and  would  do  her  harm." 


232  GKKKN    MOUNTAIN 

There  was  no  alleviation,  except  a  little  in  uttering 
my  woes.  It  was  morning  when  the  foregoing 
transaction  came  to  pass.  At  noon,  I  could  eat  noth 
ing.  "Thou  art  sick,  my  son,"  remarked  my  mother, 
feeling  my  pulse.  I  was. 

"Let  him  work.  That  will  cure  him,"  said  my 
father. 

"  Oh,  no,  father  ;  he  isn't  well.  Don't  thee  see  ?  he 
is  pale,"  expostulated  Cynthia. 

"  I  know  what'll  cure  him,"  said  my  father,  regard 
less.  So  did  I. 

That  afternoon  I  did  not  work  in  the  field.  I  went 
to  my  bed-room,  and  in  the  midst  of  sighs,  groans, 
and  some  hot  tears,  gave  birth  to  a  few  short,  irregu 
lar  stanzas  upon  the  subject  of  love.  Short  and  irre 
gular  as  they  were,  they  expressed  volumes  for  me.  I 
felt  greatly  relieved,  so  much  so,  that  about  four 
o'clock  I  went  down  and  ate  a  hearty  meal. 

Still,  a  dim,  and  dimming  shadow  of  melancholy 
remained — for  days,  wreeks.  It  did  not  go  away  at 
all  for  the  present. 

Fanny  did  not  come  to  our  house  except  when  I 
was  at  work  in  the  field.  She  never  was  there  \vhen 
I  was  there.  "VYhy?  Why?  I  frequently  asked 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  233 

myself.  At  last,  in  a  bold  mood,  I  asked  Cynthia. 
She  did  not  answer  me,  and  she  blushed  a  little,  I 
thought.  I  did  not  repeat.  Thus  matters  went  on. 
The  spring  passed,  and  the  summer,  nearly.  It  was 
late  in  that  season,  that  a  pic-nic  was  concocted.  The 
fact  was  duly  and  formally  made  known  to  me  by 
way  of  a  note,  requesting  my  attendance — with  lady. 
With  lady.  Who  should  that  lady  be?  Fanny 
would  not  go  with  me  ;  and  I  would  go  with  no  one 
else.  I  guessed  there  would  be  no  lady.  Yet  I  must 
have  a  lady  or  stay  at  home.  Some  one  might  offer 
to  take  Fanny.  Yes.  But  could  I  stand  that  ?  ~No. 
I  would  make  an  effort  to  get  her.  I  penned  a  brief, 
formal  invitation,  and  through  the  medium  of  Cyn 
thia,  had  it  conveyed  to  her.  I  was  so  much  sur 
prised  when  Cynthia  handed  me,  on  her  return,  a 
billet,  that  I  blushed  exceedingly — partly  because  I 
thought  it  was  my  own  sent  back.  With  pleasure  my 
invitation  was  accepted.  But  it  was  merely  a  form. 
She  might  have  written  the  same  to  anybody.  So  I 
thought ;  but,  like  a  sensible  youth,  I  quarrelled  not 
with  the  thought,  because  it  would  come  to  nothing 
but  bitterness.  She  had  accepted  my  company, 
That  should  suffice. 


'2?A  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

Tiio  clay  appointed  for  tlic  pic-nic  came,  and  in 
good  country  style  Fanny  and  I  joined  the  party,  and 
all  went  gleesomely  away  to  a  grove  upon  the  bank 
of  a  large  stream,  three  or  four  miles  distant  from  my 
father's.  The  day  passed  in  the  happiest  manner, 
and  it  was  pretty  far  in  the  evening  when  we  separa 
ted  to  go  to  our  homes.  During  the  whole  of  the 
joyous  time,  Fanny  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay ;  but 
when  the  company  separated,  and  we  were  alone 
together,  going  homeward,  she  was  silent.  I  made 
some  casual  remarks,  to  which  she  answered  briefly, 
but  her  voice  was  mild — had  a  touch  of  pathos  in  it 
which  thrilled  me.  Oh,  how  1  loved  those  sweet 
accents  !  but  could  not  utter  my  love. 

It  was  dark  when  we  arrived  at  her  father's.  The 
new  moon  had  set,  and  it  was  quite  dark.  I  held  one 
of  her  hands  in  mine  while  opening  the  gate  that  she 
might  pass  through  :  the  impulse  was  upon  me.  Con 
science  raised  a  voice  of  warning.  Caution  pulled  its 
thousand  strings.  They  were  nothing.  I  obeyed  the 
impulse  and  pressed  her  hand.  AY  arm  and  velvety  it 
was, — and  something  more.  The  keenest  delight  I 
believe  my  soul  has  ever  experienced,  was  at  that 
moment.  Tenderly  given  it  was — that  response — 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  235 

with  a  tremor  of  her  fingers.  I  felt  it  all.  I  feel  it 
now.  I  felt  it  this  evening,  when  we  were  sitting  in 
silence,  and  the  twilight  was  fading.  I  shall  never 
forget  it ;  for  it  was  the  first  true  love-response  that 
greeted  my  opening  passion. 

;'  What  time  is  it  ?"  asked  the  Quaker  of  the  sup 
posed  lawyer,  who  was  consulting  his  watch. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  responded  the  other,  essaying 
to  put  his  watch  back  into  its  fob.  "  Don't  let  ,it 
interrupt  you.  It's  impudence  I  know ;  but  don't 
let  it  interrupt  you,  sir." 

"  By  no  means,"  cheerfully  said  the  Quaker.  "  I 
really  want  to  know  the  time.  My  watch  has 
stopped." 

Assured  that  he  had  done  no  outrage,  the  lawyer 
drew  forth  his  time-piece  again,  and  scrutinizing  it 
carefully  by  the  moonlight,  he  announced  that  it  was 
quarter-past  nine. 

"  You  will  release  me,  then,  I  hope,"  said  the  Qua 
ker,  addressing  us  collectively.  "  It's  bed-time  for 
honest  people,  according  to  the  saying." 

"  Yes,  but  you  don't  mean  to  apply  that  remark  to 
the  present  company,  I  hope,"  remarked  the  lawyer, 
facetiously  inclined. 


236  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

ISTo  attention  was  paid  to  the  remark,  and  the  Qua 
ker  went  on — •"  I  think  I've  discharged  my  duty. 
We  were  up  pretty  late  last  night.  By  the  way,  too, 
here's  another  gentleman.  If  you  wish  further  enter 
tainment,  he  is  prepared,  no  doubt.  I  mo  " 

"  None  of  your  motioning,"  the  lawyer  put  in, 
promptly.  "  You're  not  going  to  fool  us  thus.  Don't 
you  know,  my  esteemed  friend,  that  your  story's  only 
half  done  ?  You  have  lived  thus  far  in  vain,  if  you 
suppose  we'll  let  you  off  this  side  of  eternity  without 
t'other  half.  I'll  leave  it  to  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany."  We  assented  to  the  lawyer's  remark.  After 
which  the  bald-headed  man  observed,  there  being 
silence,  "  I  thmk  it's  very  inter&stin'." 

4'  You  do  ?  Indeed  !"  responded  the  Quaker,  smil 
ing;  and  we  all  smiled  ;  for  the  bald-headed  was  very 
earnest  in  his  manner.  There  was  more  silence. 
"  By  the  by,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  before  you  begin 
again — you've  got  to  begin,  sir  ! — I  want  to  indulge 
in  something  personal.  Why  is  it  you  don't  say  thee 
and  thou,  being  a  Quaker  ?" 

"  When  among  Romans,  be  a  Roman." 

"  That's  all,  is  it  ?" 

The  Quaker  bowed  assent,  saying,  "  When  I  am 


TRAVELLERS'  K>-TKRTAIXMENT.  237 

away  from  home  I  never  indulge  in  things  calculated 
to  reveal  the  social  and  religious  relations  in  which  I 
have  been  reared — except  as  my  dress  may  betoken 
them."  This  satisfied  the  lawyer,  and  he  was  appa 
rently  about  to  express  his  satisfaction,  when  the 
Quaker  interrupted,  asking — "  Have  I — to  return  the 
same  coin — have  I  guessed  right  in  guessing — my 
Yankee  friends  will  excuse  my  play  upon  their  favor 
ite  word — that  you  have  left  the  sea,  and  now  prac 
tice  law  ?" 

"True  as  the  world!"  responded  the  other  with 
some  surprise.  "  There  is  some  shrewdness  left.  I 
am,  sir,  an  humble  aspirant  to  forensic  distinction,  I 
am  happy  to  say.  But  these  things  are  foreign  to 
the  case.  I  suppose  now  as  I've  obliged  you  with  a 
direct  answer  to  a  leading  question,  you  will  not 
object  to  directly  taking  up  the  thread  of  your  dis 
course,  eh?  Gentlemen,  I  perceive  it  in  his  eye — 
Listen. 


238  GKKKM    JMOUK'IAIN 


CHAPTEE  vn. 

OBEDIENT  to  the  lawyer's  injunction,  we  listened. 

I  am  sorry — so  the  Quaker  resumed,  first  address 
ing  the  lawyer — that  you  find  it  in  your  heart  to  bo 
so  exacting.  I  hope  you  will  have  occasion  to 

* 

repent.  I  fear  you  will.  Your  abettors,  too.  Gen 
tlemen,  I  mean  no  disrespect ; — that  man  knoweth 
not  what  he  doth.  But  to  your  general  selfishness 
represented  in  him,  I  make  no  appeal ;  only  remark 
ing,  that  I  began  with  no  determined  end,  but  that 
I  begin  now,  with  such  end  full  in  view,  and  you 
must  accompany  me  to  it.  If  it  prove  a  punishment, 
it  will  be  no  more  nor  less  than  you  deserve.  So 
much  ;  and  you  may  call  it  preface. 

Now,  let's  see,  where  did  I  leave  my  young  self? 
In  great  bliss  I  remember.  Yes,  at  the  gate,  in  a 
rapturous  aberrance,  from  which  he  directly  reco 
vered  sufficiently  to  mount  the  carriage  and  drive 
home.  A  sweet,  tumultuous  overflow  of  sentiment 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  239 

visited  me  that  night,  happifying  and  beautifying  the 
vista  of  the  future — before  I  slept,  most  beamingly — 
afterwards  in  gorgeous  flashes  that  thrilled  me  as  one 
entranced  is  thrilled  with  visions  of  heaven.  Adored 
.Fanny !  could  she  but  know  what  that  tremulous 
response  had  done  for  me  !  This  was  the  fervent 
wish  of  my  heart  wrhen  I  awoke,  or  rather  came  out 
of  physical  sleep.  I  did  not  awake.  No ;  though 
the  dream  was  troubled,  sorely  troubled,  as  with 
fiends  dire  and  remorseless,  I  did  not  awake.  I  have 
not  awaked ;  ay,  I  dream  still  on  that  very  subject, 
though  I  must  confess  the  dream  has  for  many  long 
years  seemed  marvellously  like  reality.  Pardon  this 
anticipating — this  weaving  ahead  of  the  main  cloth, 
to  use  a  metaphor.  I  am  no  ingenious  fictionist. 
This  is  my  excuse. 

I  have  now  a  new  character  to  bring  before  you  ; 
and  I  approach  him  in  the  bright  field — beyond  the 
intervening  shadows — as  I  would  approach  a  serpent. 
Samuel  Toom.  Old  Abel's  only  child.  The  boy 
whom  Joshua  saved  from  drowning.  A  handsome 
boy  in  shape  he  was — symmetrically  built  and  easy 
of  movement.  To  see  him  at  a  little  distance, 
walking,  one  could  not  help  exclaiming  at  his  singu- 


24:0  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

larly  graceful  carriage,  and  a  stranger  would  have 
approached  him  sure  of  being  pleased.  Nor  would 
the  contemplator  have  been  undeceived  until  he 
came  to  look  closely  upon  his  countenance.  There 
the  devil  within  him  ever  dwelt,  sleepily  coiled — 
like  an  adder.  Sleepily  coiled,  yet  within  ever 
nerved  to  the  most  deadly  precision.  I  do  not  speak 
now  as  I  felt  then.  I  had  then  a  dim  eye  towards 
human  faces — a  charitable  way  of  considering  human 
actions. 

This  Samuel  Toom  had  been  at  one  short  time 
during  my  earlier  boyhood  an  intimate ;  and  notwith 
standing  Joshua's  disparaging  remarks,  I  retained 
an  affection  for  him  up  to  the  time  of  which  I  shall 
soon  speak.  His  father  being  poor,  Samuel  had 
been  obliged  early  in  life  to  shift  for  himself;  and  he 
had  shifted  so  much  to  his  advantage  that  he  had  at 
the  age  of  fourteen  obtained  a  situation  in  a  dry- 
goods  store  in  Harrisburg,  nearly  seventy  miles  from 
his  old  home — working  his  way  there  unaided, 
except  by  his  own  ingenuity  and  craft.  He  was 
about  a  year  older  than  I,  and  was  therefore  at  this 
time  in  his  seventeenth  year — -just  Fanny's  age. 

I  was  surprised  to  meet  him  at  the  pic-nic.    Ho 


TRAVELLERS'    KlVTEliTAINMENT  241 

told  me  after  our  greeting,  which  was  cordial  on  my 
part,  that  he  had  returned  the  week  before,  and 
would  remain  a  couple  of  months — "  to,"  he  said 
whisperingly  in  my  ear,  "  spark  the  country  gals, 
you  know, — among  other  things  of  less  importance," 
he  added  aloud.  I  inhaled  his  breath.  It  was 
strong  with  brandy. 

"  Thy  breath  smells  bad,"  said  I  reprovingly. 

"  Only  a  little  for  the  awcasion,  you  know,"  he 
answered  with  a  kind  of  snorting  smirk,  and  left  me, 
mingling  again  with  the  company.  From  that 
moment  I  began  to  distrust  him. 

The  next  evening  after  the  pic-nic  Fanny  was  at 
our  house  a  little  while.  While  there,  she  stayed  in 
the  sitting-room,  and  talked  in  a  lively  manner  with 
my  mother  and  Cynthia  about  one  thing  and  another, 
among  the  rest  mentioning  the  fact,  that  her  parents 
had  determined  to  send  her  to  Harrisburg  to  attend 
school  a  year.  The  announcement  startled  me,  who 
wras  listening  in  rapt  attention,  into  asking  her  when 
she  intended  to  go.  My  voice  trembled  some,  at 
which  my  sister  smiled,  but  Fanny  was  sober,  and 
there  was  a  marked  sadness  in  her  tone  when  she 
answered,  that  the  intention  was  to  have  her  go 

11 


242  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

about  the  first  of  November.  "  What !  so  soon  as 
that !"  exclaimed  Cynthia,  and  she,  too,  was  sober. 
Nothing  more  was  said  about  it. 

That  night  a  comforting  determination  took  posses 
sion  of  me.  I  would  visit  Fanny.  She  was  going  away, 
and  therefore  it  could  not  be  improper  nor  harmful. 
The  recollection  of  the  sweet  response,  too,  confirmed 
me.  Yet  I  would  not  be  precipitous.  Two  months 
must  elapse  before  her  departure.  I  would  wait 
awhile ;  but  I  would  certainly  go — once  at  any 
rate. 

It  was  a  happy  resolution,  and  in  the  morning  I 
found  myself  deepened  in  it.  I  at  once  chose  the  day 
upon  which  I  would  make  the  call,  and  my  mind  set 
tled  down  fixedly  upon  it. 

The  intervening  time  was  much  longer  in  passing 
than  my  imagination  had  taught  me  to  believe  it 
•would  be,  but  the  day  came  at  last,  and,  after  elabo 
rate  adjustments  at  the  toilet,  I  sallied  forth,  without 
informing  any  one  of  my  destination.  I  found  Fanny 
at  home,  body  and  soul.  She  received  me  cordially, 
without  any  appearance  of  surprise,  and  behaved 
towards  me  something  after  a  sisterly  fashion,  talking 
and  laughing  with  exceeding  liveliness — too  much 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  243 

animation,  I  thought;  to  be  altogether  pleasing.  She 
took  me  into  the  garden,  and  showed  me  her  Autumn- 
flowers,  some  of  which  were  fading.  One  was  droop 
ing — the  stalk  being  fractured — and  she  stooped  over  it, 
caressing  and  propping  it.  She  spoke  tenderly  of  it, 
and  of  its  being  a  flower  such  as  Seraph  used  to  love. 
After  that,  while  I  stayed,  she  was  as  I  wanted  her  to 
be.  Her  voice  was  plaintive ;  and  just  before  I 
went  away,  she  spoke  of  her  anticipated  departure, 
shedding  tears. 

It  was  a  pleasant  interview,  all  in  all,  and  brought 
me  to  another  determination,  namely,  to  visit  her 
again,  though  she  had  not  requested  it.  That  she  had 
not  was  an  inadvertence  to  me — by  a  convenient 
sophistry  made  to  appear — and  did  not  take  form  as 
objection  to  my  going  again.  Precisely  two  weeks — 
two  weeks  was  the  interval  before,  dating  from  my 
first  resolve — and  I  would  repeat  the  visit.  So  regu 
lar  we  are  before  the  race  becomes  desperate  ! 

Two  weeks.  As  a  kind  of  disagreeable  necessity 
they  passed — at  length,  being  in  a  manner  insupport- 
ably  dry  and  uninteresting,  except  a  little  ogling — the 
first — on  one  of  the  intervening  Sabbaths.  A  sweet, 
delicate  taste  it  was,  like  honey  distilled.  Oh,  that 


244  GEEEN    MOUNTAIN 

such  dews  would  lull  the  craving  !  Then  might  love 
abide  and  be  always  sweet. 

The  promised  evening  came,  and  equipped  in  my 
best,  I  made  the  promised  visit.  With  tremendous 
thumpings  of  heart,  which  sounded  to  me  much  louder 
than  the  bashful  knock  that  I  laid  upon  the  door, 
I  stood  expectant.  She  met  me  all  smiles,  and  over 
flowing  with  cheerful  remarks — very  cordial  she  was, 
and  polite.  I  did  not  like  it.  There  seemed  a  frost 
in  it.  But  she  was  less  lively  after  a  little,  and 
brought  me  a  book  of  hers  to  read — conversation 
having  flagged.  A  favorite  she  said,  and  pointed  out 
several  passages,  turning  over  the  leaves,  while  I  held 
the  book,  with  her  pretty  fingers — there  was  nothing 
frosty  in  that.  When  she  had  pointed  out  the  pas 
sages,  she  went  awray  to  the  window,  looking  out, 
while  I  made  a  feint  of  reading.  As  I  was  turning 
over  the  leaves  something  fell  out  of  the  book  upon 
the  floor.  I  did  not  pick  it  up  at  first ;  and  when  I 
did,  in  a  fit  of  absence,  I  put  it  in  my  pocket. 

I  did  not  stay  so  long  this  time  as  before,  but  left  in 
a  charmed  state,  determined,  even  previous  to  taking 
leave,  that  I  would  come  again.  Two  weeks  more. 
That  was  to  be  my  last  visit,  I  resolved,  and  hoped  to 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  245 

be  able  to  keep  my  resolve.  But  I  did  not  make  the 
visit.  The  cause  will  appear. 

On  the  evening  fixed,  I  prepared  my  exterior  with 
cure,  as  usual,  and  was  about  starting,  when  a  succession 
of  trifles  sprang  up,  which  so  hindered  me  that  I  did 
not  start  until  nearly  dark.  As  I  was  hurrying  along, 
my  mind  filled  with  the  honeyed  vapor  of  my  antici 
pations,  I  was  brought  to  a  sudden  halt,  by  hearing  a 
groan,  as  of  one  in  distress.  I  immediately  saw  the 
source  of  it — S.  Toom.  "  Samuel  what  ails  thee  ?"  I 
inquired  with  solicitude. 

"  Deacon,  is  that  you  ?  By  the  Lord,  but  I'm 
glad."  He  was  sitting  by  the  road-side,  cherishing 
one  of  his  feet,  from  which  the  boot  was  removed. 
"What  ails  thy  foot?"  I  inquired  further,  guessing 
that  to  be  the  seat  of  his  distress. 

"Foot?"  he  responded,  "I  have  a  story  to  tell  you. 
I  hope  you'U  befriend  me,  eh  ?  I  know  you  will : 
you're  the  likeliest  young  man  in  this  town,  and  the 
best  friend  I've,  got,  too.  Well,  I  was  down  to  the 
river  to-day,  on  a  stroll,  and  I  felt  something  crawl 
ing  in  my  boot.  Directly  I  sits  down  on  the  bank— 
I  wns  right  along  there  where  it's  steep,  you  know. 
Oft'  comes  boot.  Nothing  in  that.  Crawl,  crawl>  in 


24:6  GBEEN   MOUNTAIN 

my  stocking.  I  pulls  at  the  stocking  like  Satan, — 
scart  a  little,  yon  understand.  I  jerked.  My  stock 
ing  came  off  unexpectedly,  and  my  hand  hit  the 
boot — and,  by  the  poker  !  knocked  the  thing  right  off 
into  the  river,  and  away  it  went.  ISrow  the  fact  is, 
I've  beerf  trying  to  get  home  without  it,  and  I'm 
about  dead.  My  foot — lord!  it  seems  like  a  blister. 
Deacon,  the  fact  is,  I've  got  to  ask  a  favor  of  you, 
now  you're  here." 

I  begged  him  to  name  it  without  reserve — I  was  in 
a  hurry ;  but  that  I  did  not  mention.  "  I  know  it's 
an  ungraceful  request.  But  I'll  be  bound  to  you  all 
my  life  if  you'll  accefle.  The  fact  is,  I  want  one  of 
your  boots  for  about  a  half  hour  or  so,  till  I  can  cut 
home  and  back  again.  Now  do."  I  had  a  dim  eye 
towards  human  faces,  and  it  was  dark,  too.  I  let  him 
have  my*boot. 

Half-an  hour !  I  could  bear  the  sacrifice  to  do  an 
act  of  kindness.  He  had  incidentally  promised  to 
come  back  there  with  the  boot,  and  so  I  sat  down 
whence  he  had  arisen,  and  waited.  It  was  nearly 
opposite  the  gate,  and  in  full  view  of  the  parlor  win 
dows.  Not  long  after  the  gentleman  had  disap 
peared,  and  while  I  was  looking  and  longing,  the 


TRAVELLERS    ENTERTAINMENT. 

parlor  was  suddenly  lighted,  and  the  shutters  to  one 
of  the  windows  thrown  open.  I  could  see  in  quite 
distinctly.  I  saw  Fanny,  waiting  for  me,  not  very 
impatiently,  I  guessed,  fbr  I  heard  her  laugh  aloud, 
and  strike  off  into  a  lively  remark  of  some  sort — I 
could  almost  hear  the  words — I  tried  to  hear  them, 
be  assured,  holding  my  breath.  A  change  took 
place  in  the  lights,  so  that  I  saw  in  more  distinctly, 
and  I  saw — I  wiped  my  eyes,  and  saw  standing  by 
the  centre-table,  a  young  man.  It  was  no  illusion, 
though  I  had  at  first  a  disposition  to  make  it  so. 
"Who  was  it?  "Who  was  it?  I  could  almost  say  for 
a  Certainty.  I  arose  to  my  feet  unconsciously,  look 
ing — not  looking  so  much  as  piercing  with  my  eyes ; 
but  the  distance — -jealous  distance  ! — it  forbade.  I 
walked  across  the  street :  when  I  reached  the  fence, 
I  looked  again,  but  he  was  not  to  be  seen.  Fanny 
had  taken  a  seat  by  the  window,  resting  her  elbow 
on  the  sill.  There  was  a  masculine  arm  and  hand 
resting  on  the  same  sill.  My  physical  vision  of  these 
facts  Avas  dim,  but  my  mental — how  vivid  !  Could  I 
have  known  just  then  to  Avhom  that  reposing  arm 
and  hand  belonged,  it  might  have  given  me  a  kind 
of  hangman's  relief.  But  that  was  not  vouchsafed. 


248  GREKN    MOUNTAIN 

I  returned  to  the  opposite  fence  and  waited.  A 
half-an  hour  I  knew  it  was,  and  yet  no  boot.  A 
passing  suspicion  had  been  in  my  mind.  It  came 
again,  passing  quickly,  however,  because  I  would  not 
have  it  so.  The  moon  was  rising  above  the  trees 
very  brightly.  It  shone  upon  that  window  brighter 
and  brighter.  I  crossed  the  street  again.  I  had 
almost  ceased  to  expect  my  boot  that  night,  and  that 
suspicion  was  wrestling  sorely  with  my  incredulity, 
The  forms  were  gone  from  the  window.  Directly,  i 
heard  voices  in  the  garden — the  garden  was  by  the 
street,  a  few  yards  from  where  I  stood.  I  crept 
along  the  fence — -crept  slower  and  slower,  and  low 
lier,  listening.  It  was  .Fanny  talking  about  the 
moonlight.  I  heard  her  words,  but  I  paid  little 
attention  to  them.  I  was  searching  for  a  greater 
fact ;  she  ceased  speaking,  and  immediately  the  fact 
was  developed :  "  I  cannot  tell  thee  how  much  I 
love  it,  too."  The  self-same  voice  my  boot  was 
begged  with  ! — on  a  different  key- — -floating  with  the 
most  winning  modulation — but  the  same.  It  was  as 
a  clap  of  thunder  first,  and  then  as  martial  music  to 
me.  My  blood  boiled  with  unutterable  rage.  It 
was  genuine  wrath  seven  times  heated  ;  and  it  grew 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  249 

hotter  with  every  pulsation  of  my  furious  heart. 
But  in  the  midst  of  it  there  was  conscience — kind 
monitor!  The  All 'Seeing  only  knows  what  the 
"  still,  small  voice  "  saved  the  demon  Samuel,  that 
night,  perhaps  his  life.  He  had  trifled  with  my 
heart's  best  impulses,  and  he  was  trifling  with  its 
sweetest.  Conscience  !  But  for  that  I  would  have 
torn  him.  Yet  my  mother  had  not  sought  to  incul 
cate  the  spirit  of  the  words,  "  Turn  the  other  cheek, 
also,"  in  vain.  The  general  remembrance  calmed 
me  like  the  voice  of  an  angel,  and  I  walked  home- 
ward — what  need  had  I  longer  to  stay?  pervaded 
with  a  sense  of  something  like  a  triumph.  Yet  it 
was  to  some  degree  illusive.  One  strong  sentiment 
had  displaced  another,  and  when  the  reaction  came, 
which  was  soon,  I  was  thrown  into  a  condition — new 
then — since  more  familiar.  I  was  jealous ;  and  all 
the  pangs  of  that  helpless  state  were  mine.  I  ceased 
to  reflect  upon  the  wrong  Samuel  had  done  me,  and 
thought,  with  a  most  turbulent  incongruity  and 
unreasonableness  of  feeling,  only  of  Fanny.  I  do 
not  remember  now  how  I  made  out  the  case.  But  1 
found  plenty  of  aliment  for  the  new  condition,  and 
could  not  go  to  sleep  even  after  I  heard  the  clock 

11* 


£50  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

toll  the  hour  of  midnight,  and  I  tried  to  sleep.  The 
lively  laugh,  the  juxtaposition  of  the  two  arms  and 
hands  on  the  window-sill,  the  pathetic  apostrophe  to 
the  moonlight,  I  could  recall  it  clearly — they  were  m 
my  mind  as  memories  of  events  vitally  important. 

They  multiplied,  and  their  offspring  were  more 
hideous  than  they.  I  was  tortured,  but  at  last  fell 
asleep. 

In  the  morning,  as  I  was  hanging  up  my  fine  vest, 
I  saw  something  white,  sticking  out  of  one  of  the 
pockets.  I  plucked  it  forth.  It  was  a  card.  There 
was  writing  on  it : — "Dear  Frances, 
your  devoted  friend,  S.  Toom."  I  looked  at  it  more 
narrowly.  It  could  not  be  so  bad  as  that.  ]STo  ;  it 
was  only  an  invitation  to  attend  a  pic-nic,  the  pic-nic 
of  six  weeks  previous,  I  saw  by  the  date.  The 
date — it  was  one  day  after  that  of  my  note  to  her. 
Ay,  I  saw  another  fact — two  of  them.  She  had, 
before  receiving  this  card,  pledged  herself  to  me, 

otherwise ,  and  she  had  slipped  this  card  into  my 

pocket  that  I  might  know,  and  that  I  might  no 
further  interfere.  Why,  it  was  as  plain  as — as — I 
wanted  it  to  be.  "  Fear  not,"  said  I,  addressing  a 
profile  view  of  her  in  my  imagination,  "  I  pity  thee* 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  251 

but  I  will  not  disturb  thy  short-lived  happiness,"  and 
in  a  resigned  mood  I  went  down  to  breakfast. 

The  next  evening  but  one,  I  was  sitting  on  the 
front-door  step  by'  myself.  The  sky  was  overcast, 
and  the  dismal  autumn-wind  howled  and  moaned  in 
the  forest,  and  whistled  mysteriously  about  the  old 
house.  The  wind  was  not  cold,  but  especially  sad  in 
its  tone,  whether  from  wandering  far  among  bare 
boughs  and  withered  leaves  and  dry  stalks  that  had 
once  borne  flowers,  I  know  not,  perhaps — and  perhaps 
a  deeper  cause — a  cause  which  man  would  not  bear 
to  know  in  this  rudimental  state  of  being — made  it  so 
sad.  It  matters,  however,  only  to  know  that  its  wild 
voice  led  my  soul  resistlessly  as  it  had  been  passion 
ate  music.  I  was  very  wretched,  yet  had  a  kind  of 
glory  in  my  wretchedness.  My  scope  of  thought  and 
fancy  was  not  broad,  however ;  and  I  was  buffetted 
with  repetitions  which,  as  they  were  familiar,  had  no 
alleviation.  I  was  getting  into  deep  despondency — 
almost  to  tears,  when,  hearing  a  slight  rustling  sound 
in  the  direction  of  the  street,  I  looked  up,  just  in 
time  to  see  my  honest,  ill-used  boot  come  swooping 
over  the  front  fence  straight  towards  me.  End  over 
end  it  came,  descending,  and,  striking  flat  on  tho 


252  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

paved  path,  slid  up  to  my  very  feet,  the  leg  thereof 
lopping  towards  me  like  a  clumsy  bow.  It  was 
nearly  dark,  yet  I  could  see,  ^s  I  picked  up  the  boot, 
a  roughly  sketched  figure  on  the  face  of  it— a  repre 
sentation  of  a  thumb,  a  nose,  and  fingers  to  corres 
pond.  I  took  the  idea.  It  stabbed  me  as  though  it 
had  been  a  poniard,  driven  by  the  same  remorseless 
hand.  It  was  the  last,  unkindest  cut,  mangling, 
annihilating  cut.  It  bewildered  me.  I  could  not 
think  of  it.  I  could  think  of  nothing.  I  went  up  to 
my  bed,  and  essayed  to  lose  my  woes  in  sleep.  I 
tried  in  vain.  I  could  not  go  to  sleep.  On  the  con 
trary  I  went  wide  awake,  my  mind  jerked  here  and 
there  like  a  piece  of  bread  in  a  nest  of  ants.  I  tossed 
until  I  was  tired,  and  then  lay  still  till  I  was  tired. 
I  tossed  again,  and  lay  still  again,  with  the  same 
result.  There  was  something  wanting  that  would 
have  made  me  calm,  or  something  existing  within  me, 
originating  in  myself,  which  some  action  of  mine 
could  have  removed,  that  made  me  so  restless.  The 
gratuitous  cruelty  which  had  been  inflicted  upon  mo, 
could  not  alone  have  done  it.  I  felt  this  fact  dimly, 
as  one  asleep  feels  external  tilings — then  more  dis 
tinctly,  awakening.  Perhaps  my  suspicion  regarding 


TRAVELLERS'  KNTKRTAINMENT.  253 

Fanny  was  unfounded.  A  recollection  flashed  upon 
me.  That  card  I  had  put  in  my  own  pocket.  It  fell 
from  her  book.  Shameful,  shameful,  that  I  should 
ever  have  thought  it.  Fanny  was  just  as  lively  in 
her  bearing  towards  me,  as  I  had  seen  her  that  night 
towards  Samuel.  It  was  her  habit.  Sam  would  not 
have  taken  such  pains  to  impose  upon  me,  had  he 
been  sure  of  his  prize.  Thus  a  new  view  dawned 
upon  my  judgment,  and  I  saw  why  I  was  so  restless. 
I  had  wronged  Fanny ;  yet  only  in  my  heart.  I  grew 
calm  speedily,  and  was  soon  asleep. 

In  the  morning  I  awoke  in  the  same  calm  state  of 
mind  in  which  I  had  fallen  asleep.  I  remembered 
Samuel's  unmannerly  deed ;  but  reflected  coolly  upon 
it ;  for  I  had  assurance  that  it  was  a  dastardly  act, 
which  would  come  out  at  his  cost. 

The  day  of  Fanny's  departure  came.  I  had  been 
once  in  the  meantime  to  see  her  ;  but  had  not  found 
her  at  home.  The  friendly,  and  slightly  regretful 
allusion  she  had  made  to  it  a  day  or  two  after  at  oar 
house,  where  she  had  called  a  few  minutes,  I  dared 
to  conjecture,  chiefly  to  express  her  regret,  atoned 
fully  for  the  disappointment,  and  I  meditated  upon 
her  anticipated  departure  with  unmingled  sorrow. 


254:  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

The  day  came.  My  sister  and  1  were  there.  Few 
words  were  spoken.  Her  father,  mother  and  brother 
were  to  accompany  her  ;  so  she  had  only  to  bid  fare 
well  to  Cynthia  and  me.  As  we  all  stood  at  the  gate 
— the  carriage  being  in  readiness,  and  she  but  a 
minute  to  stay — she  took  us  both  at  once  by  the 
hand,  and  touching  her  lips  to  Cynthia's,  said,  with 
deep  earnestness. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  leave  you.  I  know  I  shall  find 
no  friends  so  good.  Do  thou  write  to  me  Cynthia — • 
often.  Good-by !" 

"We  made  no  response.  Cynthia  was  weeping,  and 
I  was  little  short  of  it. 

"  Good-by !"  she  said  again,  after  mounting  the 
carriage.  We  gave  back  the  word  mechanically,  and 
turned  away  to  our  home  very  sorrowful. 

For  a  few  days  I  was  very  sad.  But  I  gradually 
got  the  better  of  it,  though  visited  with  occasional 
pangs  from  the  consciousness  that  Samuel  would  be 
near  her,  he  having  returned  to  Harrisburg  a  few 
days  before  she  went. 

I  resumed  my  attendance  at,  the  village  sckool,  and 
in  the  pursuit  of  my  studies  lost  sight,  in  a  measure, 
of  my  social  afflictions.  The  days  passed  pleasantly. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  255 

and  the  nights — with  exceptions.  I  was  cheerful 
and  hopeful. 

Some  time  about  midwinter,  one  evening,  as  I  was 
sitting  with  the  family,  my  mother  interrupted  the 
silence,  addressing  my  father — "  Ahasuerus,  hast  thou 
thought  on  that  matter  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  responded  my  father,  testily. 

""Well,"  said  my  mother,  and  there  was  silence 
again. 

My  curiosity  was  awakened,  and  I  waited  for  some 
thing  further.  Presently,  after  much  fumbling  in  and 
about  his  pockets,  my  father  went  to  the  bureau  and 
brought  a  letter.  "  From  Joshua,"  whispered  Cyn 
thia  to  me. 

"  Deacon,"  said  my  father,  seating  himself,  "  what 
does  thee  think  about  it?"  I  did  not  know  what  he 
meant,  and  told  him  so.  "  Read  the  letter  to  him," 
said  my  mother.  My  father,  thereupon,  read  it — 
slowly  through  his  spectacles — until  he  came  to  the 
last  page.  I  could  see  nothing  especial  in  it,  and  I 
remarked  to  that  effect,  interrupting  my  father. 
"  "Wait,  my  son,"  observed  my  mother,  significantly. 

"Your  son,  Ahasuerus  the  younger,"  read  my 
father ;  "  a  word  or  so  "or  more  about  him.  I  like  the 


256  GKM;N  MOUNTAIN 

boy,  and  it  lias  occurred  to  me  that  he  is  not  alto 
gether  contented  with  his  present  prospects  for  the 
future.  I  want  to  see  the  lad  brought  out,  and  prp- 
perly  harnessed  for  the  battle.  Now  I  have  to  pro 
pose,  in  so  many  words,  that  the  boy  come  here  and 
study  medicine  with  me." 

"  That's  it"  remarked  my  father.  "  Now,  what 
does  thee  think  of  it  ?" 

I  had  but  one  thought  of  it.  "  Of  course,  I'll  go," 
said  I. 

"  Thou  must  think  seriously  on  it,  my  son," 
enjoined  my  mother.  "It  is  for  life."  So  I  knew, 
and  it  strengthened  my  sudden  resolve.  "  I'll  go," 
said  I  again.  "  I  don't  see  as  there's  anything  more 
to  be  said  about  it,  then,"  observed  my  father,  appeal 
ing  to  my  mother.  "Nothing  now,"  she  replied 
soberly. 

Glorious,  naw  future  to  me  !  The  old  was  cast  off 
as  filthy  rags,  and  in  the  warmth  of  my  imagination, 
I  longed  to  start  upon  the  new  path — even  that 
night. 

In  a  few  days  the  matter  was,  after  various  earnest 
consultations,  arranged.  It  was  determined  that  I 
should  remain  at  school  until  .it  should  close ;  and 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  257 

thereafter  immediately  go  to   Harrisburg   to   com 
mence  my  medical  studies. 

^  The  winter  wore  away.  The  spring  came.  The 
school  closed,  and  I  set  about  preparing  for  depar 
ture.  It  Was  a  grievous  trial  for  my  parents  and 
Cynthia  to  part  with  me,  and  there  was  much  weep 
ing  and  heaviness  of  heart  on  the  morning  that  I 
went  away.  Delia  was  there  with  her  child,  a 
healthful,  lively  little  creature,  who  called  me  by  the 
same  nick-name — because  it  couldn't  pronounce  the 
whole  name — by  which  Seraph  used  to  call  me. 
They  all  gathered  around  me  at  the  old  gate,  all  feel 
ing  very  sad — all  except  father  and  little  Isaac,  the 
baby.  They  were  exceptions,  because  father  was 
going  with  me,  and  little  Isaac  wouldn't  be  anything 
else ;  and  his  lively  example  exercised  considerable 
counteracting  influence,  so  that  the  actual  moment  of 
parting  was  more*  cheerful  than  otherwise. 

"We  walked  over  to  the  village — my  father  and  I — • 
my  trunk  having  been  sent  earlier  in  the  morning 
by  the  hired-man.  At  the  village  we  took  stage,  and 
late  in  the  night  drove  into  the  city  of  Harrisburg. 
By  pre-arrangement  we  stopped  at  the  hotel  where 
Joshua  boarded,  and  in  the  morninjr,  as  we  descended 


258  GRKEN    MOUNTAIN 

to  breakfast,  we  met  him  in  the  lower  hall.  "  Unex 
pectedly  fortunate  all  through  life ;" — thus  he  began, 
before  we  saw  him,  his  voice  sounding  like  a  familiar 
tune  ;  then  taking  our  hands,  he  inquired  about  our 
condition  of  body  and  mind,  and  about  that  of  those 
at  home,  coming  to  a  dead  stop  when  my  father  inci 
dentally  mentioned  the  infant  Isaac,  declaring,  with 
an  excellent  imitation  of  sudden  physical  debility, 
that  he  must  have  breakfast  immediately,  or  perish 
under  the  stroke. 

At  the  table  he  so*Par  recovered  as  to  remark 
that  it  had  become  imperatively  necessary  for 
him  to  keep  better  note  of  the  passage  of  time. 
"  Why,"  said  he,  "  it  seems  but  yesterday,  or  the  day 
before,  at  most,  that  Delia  was  a  handsome,  promis 
ing  female  babe ;  and  now  you  say  a  being  actually 
exists  that  calls  her  mother !  It  wTas  bad  enough  to 

C3 

have  her  married  before  I  could  realize  the  absence 
of  her  short  clothes.  But  now — you're  a  veracious 
man,  and  have  a  boy,  here,  who  bears  an  oath  in  his 
countenance  to  confirm  your  statement  I  must  give 
in,  I  suppose." 

After  breakfast,  he  conducted  us  to  his  office, 
7  Veh  I  entered  with  P.  feeling  somewhat  akin  to  awo 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  259 

But  that  feeling  passed  off  in  a  measure,  soon — suffi 
ciently  to  allow  my  entering  into  a  survey  of  the 
premises.  "While  my  father  and  Joshua  were  indulg 
ing  in  some  reminiscent  observations,  I  went  on  with 
my  survey.  The  office  comprised  two  rooms — the 
front  one  being  furnished  with  a  set  of  plain  chairs, 
much  worn — the  more  so,  I  thought  then,  shrewdly, 
for  having  been  so  often  occupied  by  nervous  inva 
lids  ;  a  round  table,  covered  with  green  baize,  worn 
through  in  several  places,  particularly  within  elbow- 
reach  of  the  front  edge  ;  an  old  desk — very  old — in 
which  were  many — it  seemed  to  me  then  innumerable 
— phials,  of  every  possible  variety  of  shape  and  size  ; 
a  stove — but  that  was  bran  new,  which  fact  I  inferred 
as  much  as  anything  from  its  having  been  spit  upon 
but  twice — at  least,  had  but  two  stains  of  tobacco 
juice  upon  it ;  and  last  of  all,  a  pile  of  books  lying  on 
the  round  table.  I  noticed  these  last  in  order,  and 
went  to  them  for  a  closer  scrutiny.  They  were,  or 
purported  to  be,  "  Collections  from  the  Old  Masters." 
Music,  all  music ;  not  a  word  of  printing  as  I  could 
see,  except  the  title-pages.  Two  of  them  were  ponder- 
OIL;  volumes — huge  quartos,  bound  in  thick  sheep-skin. 
Tin  others  were  smaller — contents  arranged  for  tho 


260  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

voice.  In  them  was  something  that  at  first  sight 
looked  like  printing ;  but  I  could  make  no  sense  of 
it,  so  I  concluded  it  was  musical  signs,  and  was  about 
expressing  myself  on  the  subject,  when  Joshua 
remarked,  parenthetically  to  what  he  was  saying  to 
my  father,  "  Careful,  my  boy.  Those  books  are  the 
apple  of  mine  eye."  This  embarrassed  me  so  much 
that  I  immediately  gave  up  the  investigation,  and 
took  a  seat,  gathering  assurance  again  by  looking 
into  the  back-room.  That  room  was  carpeted,  and  the 
windows  shaded  with  red  curtains.  It  had  a  plain, 
neat  settee  in  it,  and  an  interminable  library — so  my 
impression  was  then — of  books  old  and  new,  with 
gilt-lettered  titles,  written  titles,  and  no  titles.  Some 
of  them  were  not  bound,  some  with  one  side-cover 
on ;  some  in  cloth,  some  in  paper,  others  in  leather — 
heavy  leather  and  fine  leather,  polished.  Some  very 
large  and  thick,  some  large  and  thin,  some  small  and 
worn  as  with  much  handling.  Immense  the  number 
seemed.  If  I  had  been  required  to  guess  it,  I  pre 
sume  I  should  have  said  ten  thousand,  feeling  safe ; 
though  in  fact  there  were  not  more  than  three  hun 
dred.  As  I  looked  I  became  interested,  for  that  was 
the  pile  in  whose  labyrinths  I  was  to  wander  for  the 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  261 

next  half  a  dozen  years.  I  went  into  the  room  to 
take  a  narrower  look.  My  former  ideas  were  only 
magnified.  I  became  bewildered  directly,  and  tired, 
and  was  glad  to  retreat  from  the  solid,  august  array. 
I  retreated,  back  foremost,  stumbling  over  a  chair  as 
I  re-entered  the»  front  room,  which!  mishap  aroused 
Joshua  and  my  father;  who  were  deep  down  in  some 
well,  groping  for  reluctant  facts  that  had  once  been 
living  truths  to  them — aroused  them  very  much,  and 
they  both  stretched  and  yawned  into  a  full  realiza 
tion  of  the  present.  "  The  time,  Joshua?"  asked  my 
father. 

"The  time " — began  Joshua,  musingly.  "  Oh,  the 
time  of  day  ?"  he  continued,  drawing  forth  his  watch, 
and  suppressing  a  laugh  at  his  misapprehension. 
"  Why,  you've  been  here  about  an  hour."  He  then 
stated  the  hour,  whereupon  my  father  jumped  up  as 
though  casting  off  a  burden,  or .  by  the  motion  was 
extracting  one  of  his  teeth,  and  declared  he  must  be 
at  the  hotel  in  half  an  hour,  that  he  might  not  be  left 
behind.  Joshua  apprehended  him  at  first,  with  some 
real  difficulty,  and  afterwards  with  much  sham.  And 
when  the  idea  that  my  father  was  to  return  home  that 
day,  was  fully  developed  in  his  mind,  he  beset  him  in 


262  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

the  most  vigorous  manner,  to  treat  the  intention,  as 
he  did,  with  unmeasured  contempt.  But  my  father 
was  inflexible,  and  we  all  went  back  to  the  hotel. 

Just  before  the  stage  drove  up,  my  father  took 
Joshua  one  side,  and  talked  in  a  low,  serious  voice  to 
him.  I  could  see  their  faces  ;  and  I  §aw  that  Joshua 
took  what  was  said  with  calm,  serious  assent,  and  that 
my  father  was  singularly  earnest.  I  guessed  the 
theme,  though  I  could  not  distinguish  a  word,  and  I 
felt  a  kind  of  glory  in  having  two  such  protectors 
in  this  world. 

Soon  the  stage  drove  up,  and  my  father,  taking  my 
hand,  said  very  mechanically,  with  his  voice  pitched 
on  an  unusual  key,  "Good-by !"  It  was  all  he  said; 
and  I'm  inclined  to  think  all  he  could  say,  and  main 
tain  his  dignity.  He  did  not  look  at  me  any  more,  but 
took  his  seat  stiffly,  and  passed  away  from  our  pre 
sence,  gazing  steadfastly  into  the  fore-interior  of  the 
stage. 

Home  had  so  far  seemed  connected  with  me ;  but 
now  that  connection  was  severed — the  cord  was  wind 
ing  up  away  from  me,  and  I  felt  for  ihe  moment 

* 

quite  alone.  A  great  sigh  was  preparing  to  escape 
mo,  when  was  I  brought  to  a  healthful  and  proper 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  263 

sense  of  rny  real  position,  by  Joshua  taking  me  by 
the  arm,  and  leading  me  off  with  mock  severity, 
towards  his  office. 

"  I  hope,"  said  he,  keeping  up  the  joke,  as  he  went 
along,  "  that  your  behavior  will  be  such,  that  extre 
mities  will  not  have  to  be  resorted  to.  Be  calm,  sir 
and  in  due  time  you  will  be  released,  a  better  and  a 
wiser  man." 

When  we  reached  the  office,  he  changed  his  tone, 
saying,  "  Deacon,  for  a  day  or  two,  wander  and  sip, 
and  get  so  you  can  look  around  without  staring. 
Then  I'll  begin  with  you — yea,  I  will  put  you  upon 
the  tread-wheel ;  but  you  shall  have  oats,  and  a  pro 
spect  of  meadows  green,  where  streams  perennial  flow, 
and  where  sweet  wild  oats  grow,  you  know." 

I  made  a  remark,  embodying  my  impressions  of 
the  place,  to  which  he  responded,  "  Just  so.  May 
you  always  be  happy,  bedewed,  and  refreshed  for  ever 
in  this  world  of  woe  ! — By  the  way,  Deacon,  I  must 
go  out  professionally.  Tell  any  one  who  enters  the 
premises,  that  you  can't  do  anything  for  them ;  and 
that  Doctor  Koyles  is  gone  out."  So  saying,  he  left 
me  alone,  to  amuse  myself  till  noon. 

What  do  you  suppose  I  thought  of,  the  very  first 


264  GKliEN   MOUNTAIN 

thing  after  Joshua  went  out,  and  the  room  was  silent. 
Just  this : — Fanny  Cline.  I  thought  of  her,  and  I 
thought  not  seriously  of  anything  else  all  the  time 
Joshua  was  gone — more  than  two  hours.  I  thought 
warm  thoughts,  and  cool  thoughts — warm  thoughts 
of  her,  of  her,  living,  adorable  angel !  and  cool 
thoughts  of  a  plan  by  which  I  would  gain  an  inter 
view  with  her.  Nothing  came  of  it,  however,  but  a 
nervous  head-ache,  which  lasted,  getting  severer 
towards  night,  until  I  fell  asleep — late  in  the  evening. 
The  next  morning  I  kept  such  thoughts  out  of  my 
mind  by  special  edict  of  the  will,  and  commenced 
seriously  to  reconnoitre  the  awful  library.  But  before 
the  close  of  the  day — it  was  near  the  close — when  I 
thought  I  had  done  all  that  an  attempt  required; 
I-took  a  seat  facing  one  of  the  windows  in  the  back 
room,  which  window  opened  towards  the  west,  and  I 
became  enthralled  again,  as  I  had  been  the  day  before. 
The  window  was  up,  and  the  curtain,  and  I  watched 
the  great,  red  sun,  as  it  went  calmly  down,  not  think 
ing  about  it,  but  about  what  it  suggested.  The  same 

• 
sun,  looking  nearly  the  same,  had  gone  down  another 

season,  shining  in  my  face,  while  rny  ear  drank  the 
pathetic  melody  of  that   mild  voice  so  thrillingly 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  265 

sweet — then.  When  the  sun  was  clown,  there  was  a 
soft  flush  of  living  twilight.  And  I  made  it  still 
more  alive,  for  I  was  so  fanciful  as  to  weave  a  bright 
angelic  form  there,  in  the  midst  of  it.  But  it  was 
a  fleeting  form,  only  suggesting  thoughts  that  made 
me  indifferent  to  the  twilight.  A  lively  train.  She 
is  in  the  same  city  with  me,  and  we  are  away  from 
home — so  the  train  moved.  She  is  sitting  perhaps  at 
this  moment,  at  the  western  window  of  her  room — 
her  own  private  room,  thinking.  Thinking !  oh, 
that  I  were  there,  to  help  her  think — to  talk  with  her 
— about  home.  Oh,  I  would  not  talk  with  her  about 
anything  else.  Only  about  home.  Perhaps  about 
the  pic-nic,  as  being  legitimately  connected  with  it. 
Perhaps  about  the  evening  that  followed.  No ;  I 
would  not  allude  to  that.  She  might,  if  she  wished. 
I  hope  she  will.  The  morning  in  the  spring,  too, 
when  thou  and  Cynthia  came  out  into  the  field  where 
I  was.  That  was  home.  We  will  talk  about  that, 
sweet  Fanny.  Hold !  ahem !  It  was  of  no  use.  I 
had  been  talking  aloud — two  or  three  sentences.  Is 

it  possible  any  one  ? There  was  Joshua's  face, 

resting    against    the   door-casing,   looking  solemnly 

at  me. 

12 


266  GKKI.N  MOUNTAIN 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  he,  with  much  feeling,  instead 
of  laughing,  as  I  anticipated,  "I  beg  your  pardon 
sincerely.  Some  day  you  may  know  why  I  stood 
here  and  listened.  Not  now."  He  came  in,  and  put 
his  arm  around  me  as  a  tender  father  would  around  ft 
son  younger  than  I  was,  and  said,  in  a  livelier  tone, 
"  Deacon,  the  world  looks  ID  right  to  you  now,  don't 
it?"  Overcome  with  embarrassment  at  the  disclo 
sure  I  had  made,  I  replied  "yes,"  without  meaning 
it.  Whereupon,  he  patted  my  shoulder,  saying, 
"  To-morrow  it  won't  look  so  bright ;  for  I'm  going 
to  begin  to  endow  you  with  my  mantle  of  wisdom, 
with  the  help  of  Providence,  and  these  books  here.1 ' 
Thus  the  subject  was  entirely  changed.  And  it  con 
tinued  changed ;  for  directly  afterwards,  a  crony  of 
Joshua's  came  in,  and  they  sat  down,  spending  the 
evening  after  a  manner  which  did  not  afford  oppor 
tunity  for  quiet — or  much  other — thought.  This  crony 
was  afflicted  in  like  manner  with  Joshua,  namely, 
taking  an  overwhelming  pleasure  in  music,  accompa 
nied  with  the  bald  illusion  that  he  could  make  it. 
The  evening  was  spent  dreadfully,  if  we  may  attach 
any  sacredness  to  the  splendid  creations  of  the  "  Old 
Masters,"  and  tired  at  beholding  the  conflict,  I 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  267 

slipped  off,  while  the  stimulated  actors  were  execut 
ing  a  flanking  measure  to  save  themselves  in  tho 
heights  of  a  solo,  and  went  away  to  my  bed  antici 
pating  a  renewal  of  the  twilight  reflections;  but  I 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly  fell  asleep. 

The  following  morning  my  studies  were  com 
menced  in  earnest,  and  with  them  commenced  a  new 
and  deep  interest,  which  to  this  day  has  never  ceased. 
But  that  interest,  deep  and  lively  as  it  was,  and  daily 
increasing,  did  not  engross  me.  At  quiet  closes  of 
day,  and  sometimes  at  other  quiet  hours  when  I  was 
alone  in  the  office,  thoughts  that  were  not  of  science, 
hopes  that  were  not  of  distinction,  gave  light  and  life 
to  my  inner  soul.  And  the  more  they  came,  the 
more  they  glowed,  and  the  more  I  longed  to  see  with 
my  bodily  vision  the  object  of  them. 

One  evening — Sunday  evening — I  think  it  was  the 
fourth  Sunday  of  my  sojourn — the  mood  was  strong 
upon  me ;  and  in  three  minutes  from  the  time  the 
plan  commenced,  it  was  formed,  and  the  day  appoint 
ed  upon  which  I  would  go  and  see  her — Fanny. 
The  principal  part  of  the  plan  was  to  inform  Joshua 
of  my  intention,  and  ask  his  advice.  This  was  done 
modestly  in  the  dark,  as  we  were  walking  that  same 


268  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

evening.  I  stated  that  she  was  an  old  friend  of  mine, 
and  that  I  wanted  to  see  her  very  much,  and  so  forth, 
and  so  on — concealing  the  main  fact  as  though  he 
didn't  know  it — and  concluded  with  naming  the  day 
I  had  conditionally  appointed.  The  whole  matter 
was  rather  awkwardly  and  incoherently  stated,  and 
he  pretended  not  to  understand,  requesting  me  to 
repeat,  which  I  did ;  and  in  my  anxiety  to  be 
explicit,  I  got  so  near  the  true  state  of  the  case  that  I 
told  it  bolt  out,  which  I  have  no  doubt  was  just  what 
he  wanted,  for  he  met  my  confession  with  another 
embrace  like  the  one  of  that  second  evening  of  my 
stay,  and  tendered  at  once  his  entire  services.  He 
had  two  or  three  patients,  he  said,  in  the  institution, 
and  was  well  acquainted  with  the  teachers.  He 
would  go  with  me,  and  give  me  an  introduction. 
Thus  the  matter  was  briefly  arranged. 

Friday — the  day  came,  and  we  went  together  as 
agreed.  I  was  introduced  first  to  the  principal,  a 
bland,  amiable-appearing  man,  and  afterwards  by  him 
to  a  manly-looking  person  in  woman's  clothes,  who 
wore  spectacles  over  very  severe,  pale-blue  eyes. 
Fanny  was  under  her  immediate  supervision,  she 
infornied  me,  with  very  distinctly  accented  phraseo- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  269 

logy,  and  through  her,  as  a  gate,  I  was  admitted  to 
the  ambrosial  presence.  I  had  seen  the  dear  being 
only  in  memory  and  imagination  for  the  past  five  or 
six  months,  yet  I  knew  her  step  before  she  entered 
the  room,  and  I  arose  all  aglow  to  greet  her.  But 
the  gate  creaked.  "Ahem!"  significantly  remarked 
the  manly-looking  in  woman's  clothes.  Fanny  was 
all  aglow,  too;  but  that  "ahem?"  was  magically 
chilling  in  its  effect.  She  came  demurely  up  to  me, 
and  just  touched  my  fingers  with  hers,  and  then  took 
a  seat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  A  stiff 
dialogue  thereupon  ensued  relative  to  home,  and 
present  prospects,  likes  and  dislikes,  intentions  and  so 
forth,  and  thus  a  half  an  hour  passed — to  me  as 
something  sweet,  swallowed  whole  ;  and  I  went  away 
with  a  feeling  of  dissatisfaction,  which  I  communi 
cated  to  Joshua  as  we  proceeded  together  towards 
the  office. 

"  All  natural  and  inevitable,"  he  observed,  "  but 
it's  no  use  to  fret.  Wait  for  a  more  propitious  sky, 
and  other  more  propitious  circumstances."  Ho 
further  remarked,  that  the  school  would  be  out  early 
in  the  summer,  and  left  the  subject  for  me  to  pursue. 

i.i  was  a  very  consoling  thought  to  me  that  a  vaca 


GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

tion  was  so  soon  to  ensue  in  Fanny's  school,  and  I  at 
once  embraced  a  plan  of  action.  It  was  plain,  I 
reflected,  that  I  could  not  visit  her  again  as  she  was 
then  situated,  with  any  satisfaction,  consequently  1 
would  defer  all  until  the  vacation.  Then,  before  she 
should  return,  I  would  gain  the  sweet  opportunity. 
To  this  end  I  immediately  dispatched  a  billet  by  post, 
signifying  my  desire.  To  my  agreeable  surprise,  I 
received  an  answer  the  day  following,  briefly  grant 
ing  my  request.  It  was  written  evidently  in  great 
haste — so  I  concluded  by  way  of  explanation  of  the 
facts  that  the  hand-writing  only  resembled  hers,  and 
that  two  or  three  words  were  misspelled,  a  fault 
which  in  all  her  long  letters  to  Cynthia  I  had  never 
noticed.  But  I  was  too  happy  in  my  success  to 
reflect  nicely  upon  these  things,  and  accordingly  put 
the  billet  away,  gratefully  settling  down  upon  the 
promised  joy. 

Six  weeks  were  to  elapse  before  vacation  would 
commence,  and  to  the  consumption,  by  the  inch,  of 
the  long  dreary  interval,  I  addressed  myself.  Yet  it 
was  not  so  dreary  when  I  got  fairly  at  it,  and  four  of 
the  six  weeks  were  soon  past.  1  specify  thus,  for  at 
the  end  of  those  four  weeks,  an  event  happened. 


TRAVELLERS'  KJSTTEKTAINMENT.  271 

Since  my  arrival  in  Harrisburg,  I  had  not  seen 
S.  Toom,  though  I  had  thought  of  him — and  that  not 
tenderly — often.  Neither  did  I  want  to  see  him. 
But  it  was  otherwise  ordered.  I  was  sitting  one 
morning  in  the  office-door,  pleasantly  reflecting  upon 
the  fact,  that  two-thirds  of  the  hindrance  to  the 
anticipated  interview  were  removed,  when  "  Good 
morning,  Doctor  Munn,"  startled  me  like  a  hiss.  I 
looked  up  savagely,  and  there  he  stood,  most  defer 
entially,  with  his  hat  oif.  "  Worthy  disciple  of 
Esculapius,  how  do  you  do  this  morning?"  he  con 
tinued,  perceiving  I  was  not  likely  to  return  his 
salutation.  I  said  nothing,  and  looked  perseveringly 
away  from  him.  But  he  was  far  from  being  bluffed. 
He  ran  on  to  considerable  length  in  a  very  lively, 
desultory  discourse  upon  the  medical  practice,  old 
times,  future  times,  present  times,  and  local  matters, 
and  coming  to  an  emphatic  conclusion  by  asking  me 
what  were  the  latest  advices  from  the  Cline  family. 
Boiling  with  wrath,  I  only  looked  fiercely  in  his  face. 
"They  say  Fanny  is  in  the  city  at  school,"  he  continued, 
his  sleepy,  serpent  eyes  nearly  closed.  "  Demned 
squash-head  of  a  girl,  I  think,  eh  ?  Time  thrown  away 
schooling  her."  I  knew  this  was  meant  to  insult  me, 


272  GKKKN    MOUNTAIN 

and  I  resented  it  by  leaving  him,  and  going  into  the 
back-room.  "  Well,  Doctor,"  I  heard  him  say,  stand 
ing  at  the  door,  "I  suppose  thou  wouldst  not  take 
a  little  something  to  drink  this  morning — a  little 
cold  water  toddy  ?"  If  was  too  much.  Grasping  a 
pestle,  I  rushed  out,  angry,  even  to  the  shedding  of 
blood.  But  he  was  gone.  I  was  yet  rushing  towards 
the  door,  when  Joshua  presented  himself,  having  just 
returned  from  a  professional  call.  "  Ay !  ay !  what's 
this,"  he  began.  "  Sam  Toom,  the  wretch!"  I  foam- 
ingly  ejaculated.  "  Ah,"  he  responded,  becoming 
very  gloomy  in  an  instant,  and  said  nothing  more. 
"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  I  cried,  seeing  that  I  could  take 
no  revenge.  "  Kill  him.  Kill  him,"  replied  Joshua, 
the  veins  standing  out  like  cords  on  his  forehead. 
The  next  moment  he  remarked,  "  I  didn't  mean  that, 
Deacon.  Don't  shed  blood." 

I  was  greatly  agitated,  and  it  was  several  hours 
before  I  regained  my  mental  equilibrium. 

Such  was  the  event;  and  it  prepared  me  to  appre 
ciate  what  followed. 

The  promised  day  came.  It  was  Monday — the 
school  having  closed  on  Saturday.  At  the  appointed 
hour — three  in  the  afternoon  —I  went.  I  passed 


TKAYKLLKRS'  EXTEKTAINMEXT.        273 

through  the  same  process  that  I  had  before,  only  that 
I  introduced  myself  to  the  bland  principal,  who  intro 
duced  me  to  the  manly-looking  with  spectacles. 
"  Sir  ?"  said  she  when  I  inquired  for  Fanny.  I 
repeated.  "  Frances  is  no  longer  under  my  imme 
diate  supervision,"  she  informed  me  with  admirable 
accentuation.  That  I  knew ;  but  perhaps  she  could 
tell  me  where  Fanny  was,  that  I  might  see  her.  "  Sir  ?" 
What  a  voice  of  thunder !  I  repeated  more  explicitly 
and  emphatically.  Worse  than  ten  thousand  thunders 
was  that  voice  to  me,  when  she  said — "  Frances  is 
gone  out  to  walk  with  an  old  acquaintance  of  hers. 
Toom  I  think  was  the  name  by  which  he  was  intro 
duced  to  me.  She  will  be  in  towards  evening. 
Please  to  call  again."  In  other  wwds — please  to 
clear  out.  So  I  took  her  request,  at  least,  and  went 
away,  away  from  the  house,  from  the  heavenly 
dream  that  had  so  long  made  me  happy — away  down, 
down.  Oh,  the  blackness  of  darkness !  the  worse 
than  sulphureous  depths  into  which  I  was  plunged ! 

It  would  be  but  mockery  to  attempt  a  description 

of  my  feelings  during  the  rest  of  that  afternoon  and 

evening — all  that  night,  in  fact,  for  I  did  not  sleep, 

Jealousy  and  hate  in  all  their  burning, fury,  tore  me 

12* 


274  GRKKX    MOUNTAIN 

as  vultures  would  have  torn.  At  one  moment  Fanny 
would  appear  to  me  a  ruined  creature,  fascinated  by 
the  remorseless  serpent. — The  next  moment  she  would 
appear  a  deceitful  hag,  hateful  beyond  expression, 
loom — I  could  not  think  of  him — it  was  too  frenzying. 
It  was  a  dreadful  tumult  all  through  the  long 

O  O 

night ;  and  in  the  morning  I  showed  traces  of  it 
too  plainly  to  attempt  concealment.  I  told  Joshua 
about  it — keeping  nothing  back.  His  only  reply  was 
kk  Wait.  Let  time  prove."  But  that  was  a  branch 
of  practical  philosophy  which  I  had  not  then  come 
to ;  accordingly  I  settled  my  mind  at  once,  or  tried 
to, — coming  after  several  hours  reflection,  to  the  con 
clusion,  that  Fanny  was  the  one  to  blame — that  she 
had  maliciously  deceived  and  wronged  me.  And 
with  this  conclusion,  I  settled  down  quite  stolidly, 
feasting  upon  my  future  revenge,  which  was  to  com 
mence  with  a  full  disclosure  to  Cynthia,  accompanied 
with  appropriate  reflections — intended,  you  know,  for 
Fanny's  perusal,  as  she  would  be  at  home. 

Having  thus  settled  my  plan,  I  was  prepared  to 
dismiss  the  subject,  which  was  not  easily  done — was 
not  done  at  all,  in  fact.  I  directly  found  that  wheij 
not  actively  employed  at  something  else  pleasingly 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  275 

interesting,  my  mind  would  recur  in  spite  of  me  to 
the  unhappy  event.  Neither  would  my  thirst  foi 
vengeance  allow  me  to  rest.  The  scathing  epistle 
was  elaborately  inscribed  with  many  tremendous 
gushes  of  feeling  indicated  by  griashings  of  teeth  and 
smitings  with  the  clenched  hand.  Some  very  bitter 
sentences  were  penned,  and  underscored  with  three 
and  some  with  four  lines ;  and  all,  being  duly  com 
plete,  was  sent, 

After  this  fiery  transaction  I  was  more  at  rest,  yet 
had  a  secret  panting  for  an  answer.  I  was  sure  of 
getting  one.  I  was  sure  Cynthia  would  sympathize 
with  me,  and  hasten  to  make  it  known.  I  waited, 
waited.  No  letter  came  for  a  long  time.  I  received 
one  from  my  mother  first, — then  some  time  after — in 
all  more  than  four  weeks'from  the  sending  of  mine — 
one  from  Cynthia,  in  which  not  the  slightest  allusion 

«/  O 

was  made  to  the  interesting  theme.  She  stated 
casually  that  my  old  friend  Fanny  was  in  feeble 
health,  and  would  not  probably  return  to  her  school, 
and  stated  in  postscript  that  S.  Toom  was  at  home, 
dangerously  sick.  She  had  received  my  letter,  for 
she  acknowledged  it.  "  Let  'em  die  together,  and 
Cynthia  with  'em,  confound  her,"  said  I,  pinching 


276  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

the  innocent  letter,  and  napping  it  against  the'  r<  ..-..<! 
table.  I  was  alone  in  my  misery.  My  own  dear 
sister  was  willing  to  sacrifice  her  only  brother,  and 
encourage  a  deluded  girl — so  I  viewed  it  just  then — 
to  utter  destruction.  Who  was  ever  so  unhappy  as  I 
was  then  ?  Yet  I  had  consolations.  I  took  hold  of 
my  studies  vigorously,  and  they  diverted  me.  I 
leaned  more  on  Joshua,  though  I  didn't  mention  the 
subject  to  him — and  he  diverted  me.  I  learned  to 
laugh  at  the  frequent  musical  catastrophes  which 
transpired  in  the  office,  and  they  diverted  me 
With  all,  I  had  after  a  few  days  only  an  hour  or  so 
now  and  then,  of  dismal  thoughts.  Thus  the  snmmei 
passed  slowly  on,  even  to  the  end,  and  autumn  com 
menced.  In  the  meantime  I  had  received  several 
letters  from  home,  from  which  I  gathered  two  impor 
tant  facts :  that  Fanny,  though  well,  would  no  more 
come  back  to  school ;  and  that  Samuel  had  recovered 
and  left  the  place. 

When  the  leaves  began  to  fall,  I  took  it  into  my 
head  to  go  home  and  make  a  visit.  Joshua  approved 
of  my  intention,  and  I  set  out  early  one  quiet 
morning,  and  after  a  very  pleasant  journey,  came, 
just  at  dark,  into  the  old  village.  I  was  there  joined 


TRAVELLEKS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       277 

by  my  father,  and  went  home  to  the  old  house.  As 
we  came  to  the  gate,  my  mother,  Cynthia,  and — 
Fanny,  stood  there  to  welcome  me.  Fanny  kept 
back  at  first  —  ay,  she  remembered  my  letter,  1 
thought ;  but  in  the  gush  of  joy  which  prevailed,  I 
left  that  out  of  mind,  and  greeted  her  cordially. 
Her  hand  trembled  as  I  held  it,  and  her  voice 
trembled  as  she  asked  me,  a  minute  afterwards, 
gratuitously,  if  I  was  well.  I  had  those  things  to 
think  of  that  night  before  I  slept. 

My  visit  was  to  be  two  weeks  in  length,  and 
I  went  at  it  systematically.  The  weather  was 
pleasant,  and  when  tired  with  conversation  in  the 
house  I  wrandered  out,  dreamily  renewing  the  innu 
merable  associations  which  sprang  as  echoes  from 
every  haunt.  I  did  not  tire  of  these  ;  but  there  was 
a  sense  of  dissatisfaction  attending  them,  the  source 
of  which  I  was  several  days  finding  out.  Fanny 
was,  and  yet  was  not,  in  everything.  I  knew  it  at 
last,  and  then  everything  seemed  to  reproach  me.  I 
remembered  her  manner  the  evening  that  I  camo 
home.  I  remembered  what  I  thought  and  how  I  felt 
when  I  was  in  my  room  that  night,  and  all  was  still. 
I  remembered  these  things  one.  quiet,,  hazy  after- 


278  GREKN    MOUNTAIN 

noon,  sitting  at  the  window  of  Cynthia's  room, 
looking  out  towards  Mr.  Cline's  house.  I  saw  Fanny 
sitting  at  the  parlor  window — at  least  I  thought  it 
was  she — and  at  once  I  had  a  strong  impulse  to  go 
and  visit  her.  I  was  sure — very  sure  she  wanted  to 
see  me,  and  with  a  decision  as  sudden  as  the  impulse 
I  determined  to  go. 

It  was  a  most  beautiful  afternoon,  and  I  strove  to 
realize  it  more  fully  as  I  went  along.  I  went  slowly 
through  the  gate,  gathering  internal  composure  by 
gazing  around  in  a  general  way,  and  sauntered  up  to 
the  window.  It  was  Fanny  sitting  there,  and  she 
was  alone.  She  requested  me  to  walk  in.  But  I  pre 
ferred  standing  outside,  so  she  leaned  slightly  out  of 
the  window,  and  we  talked  there  together  quietly  for 
a  while  about  nothing  in  particular.  She  was  very 
calm  and  earnest  in  her  manner,  and  looked  at  my 
lips  and  not  at  my  eyes  when  I  spoke.  I  noticed  this, 
and  her  earnestness  as  something  unusual,  and  I 
began  to  feel  a  dearth  of  items  to  talk  about.  A  lit 
tle  fountain  (pent)  sprung  loose  in  my  heart.  I  heard 
what  she  said — the  sound  of  her  voice — not  much 
more,  for  I  was  thinking — I  could  not  help  thinking 
— of  the  evening  of  the  pic-nic.  The  tone  of  her 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  279 

voice  was  the  same  as  then — more  tenderly  melodi 
ous.  That  fountain  gushed  fresher  and  fuller  in  my 
heart,  and  I  felt  more  barren  of  items.  I  became 
quite  absent,  and  did  not  hear  a  question  which  she 
casually  asked  me.  "  Ahasuerus  !"  Oh,  my  name  ! 
how  sweetly  spoken  !  The  fountain  was  becoming  a 
tide.  "Fanny!"  I  returned.  "Come  in,  Ahasue 
rus,"  she  said  in  the  same  tone  ;  "  thou  must  be  tired 
standing." 

I  was  not  tired,  but  I  went  in.  She  bade  me  bo 
seated  on  the  settee,  while  she  took  the  rocking-chair, 
a  little  distance  off. 

"  Didst  thou  not  ask  me  something  just  before  I 
came  in  ?"  I  inquired,  feeling  I  must  make  some 
remark. 

"  I  don't  mind,  now,"  she  replied,  and  for  several 
minutes  nothing  was  said. 

There  was  something  painful  on  her  mind — some 
thing  that  sought  utterance,  yet  was  vigorously  kept 
back. 

"  Why  dost  thou  look  so  sad  ?"  I  inquired,  pain 
fully  moved,  myself. 

"Do  not  ask  me,"  she  replied.  Then,  after  a  few 
moments,  continued  with  a  quivering  voice,  "I  have 
tutored" 


280  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

"  On  my " account,  I  was  going  to  say,  but  1 

swallowed  it,  feeling  that  I  need  not  ask,  for  it  was 
so.  Ay,  I  knew  it.  She  was  weeping. 

"  Dear  Fanny !" 

It  was  the  first  time,  and  I  was  startled  at  my  rash 
ness.  But  the  tide  had  become  an  ocean,  and  bore 
me  resistlessly.  I  arose  and  approached  her.  "  My 
dear  Fanny,  thou  hast  suffered  by  my  folly.  I  am  a 
fool,  a  detestable  fool!  I  have  been  a  fool  all  my 
days,  Fanny !" 

"  Don't  talk  so,  Ahasuerus.  Thou  art  not  bad.  I 
am  bad.  But  I  can't  help  it." 

I  took  a  chair  and  sat  clown  beside  her — agitated 
very  much.  I  tried  to  say  several  things  before  1  said 
anything.  Finally, — she  had  ceased  weeping,  and 
was  looking  dreamily  away  out  of  the  open  window 
— I  said,  sighed,  uttered  some  way — it  was  like  jump 
ing  off  a  precipice  into  a  bank  of  tinted  clouds — 
yieldingly  I  gave  it  forth,  casting  all  upon  the  flam 
ing  die,  "  Fanny,  my  angel !" — a  sigh  bore  the  rest — 
"  dost  thou  love  me  ?" 

Her  hand  was  upon  mine.  She  turned  her  face 
gently  towards  mine.  I  bent  towards  her.  She 
leaned  towards  me.  Our  lips  met — our  souls  met  in 
one  long  draught  of  frenzying  sweetness, . 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  281 

Unexpectedly  as  this  whole  scene  had  developed 
itself,  I  realized  it  fully  in  all  its  vital  relations  to  me. 
The  long-coveted,  long-dreamed  of  treasure  was  mine, 
mine.  I  called  her  mine,  holding  her  in  my  embrace 
— we  were  then  sitting  on  the  sofa.  "  Yes,  Ahasue- 
rus,  thine — for  ever."  How  it  thrilled  me  !  that  word 
"  for  ever,"  spoken  so  earnestly,  as  she  looked  up  into 
my  face — into  my  eyes,  now — deep  into  my  soul, 
"We  remained  silent  awhile.  Suddenly  a  dark  mem 
ory  touched  me  as  with  shadowy  fingers.  Samuel. 
I  uttered  the  name  almost  involuntarily,  so  vivid  was 
the  remembrance. 

"Don't  speak  of  him,  he's  bad — a  bad  young 
man,"  she  said.  After  a  few  moments  she  resumed, 
"  He's  unhappy,  too.  I  will  show  thee  something  he 
wrote  to  me  last  summer."  She  arose  and  went  into 
another  room,  coming  back  soon  with  a  letter  in  her 
hand.  She  gave  it  to  me,  telling  me  to  read  and 
then  destroy  it.  She  had  only  kept  it  for  me.  I 
read  it  eagerly,  trembling  as  I  read,  for  I  saw  therein 
more  than  ever  the  exceeding  subtlety  and  power 
he  possessed.  And  I  saw,  too,  that  it  was  not  all  an 
ingenious  play  of  thoughts.  There  was  true  passion 
in  it — burning,  deep,  and  that  developed  his  mental 


282  GKEKN   MOUNTAIN 

resources — might  develop  them  more  !  I  felt  a  chill 
in  my  blood  when  I  had  finished  the  perusal,  as 
though  I  had  been  handling  a  serpent. 

"Dost  thou  not  think  he  is  unhappy?"  Fanny 
inquired,  when  she  saw  I  was  done. 

I  could  not  say  what  I  wanted  to,  so  I  made  no 
reply. 

"  He  has  been  bad  to  thee,  I  know,"  she  remarked, 
and  there  was  something  unpleasant  to  me  in  her 
manner.  I  coolly  asked,  "How?"  In  reply  she 
entered  upon  a  narration  of  the  event  which  had 
given  me  such  poignant  misery.  Thus  it  was.  She 
had  never  received  a  note  from  me  wrhile  at  school. 
Samuel  had  come  there  to  the  institution  with  a 
young  gentleman  and  lady  of  his  acquaintance,  and 
begged  her  to  go  with  him  and  them  to  see  a  floral 
exhibition,  not  far  off.  She  had  accompanied  them, 
and  so  the  unhappy  incident  had  come  to  pass. 

"  Scoundrel !"  I  could  not  restrain  myself  from 
saying. 

"  Yes,  I  know  he  is  bad.  We  will  not  say  any 
thing  more  about  him." 

The  sun  was  down,  and  the  sky  overcast  thickly, 
darkly,  as  I  walked  home  that  evening.  With  al] 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  283 

the  sweet  remembrance  of  the  afternoon,  I  was  not 
happy. 

The  following  week  I  returned  to  Harrisburg,  and 
resumed  my  studies,  immeasurably  more  buoyant  in 
soul,  more  vigorous  in  intellect,  than  I  had  left  them. 
The  future,  how  strangely  altered  from  the  dark  and 
doubtful  to  the  glorious  and  certain!  There  was  a 
cloud,  but  it  was  a  cloud  on  the  horizon,  and  did 
not  obscure  the  day. 

The  moaning  autumn  found  no  echo  in  my  heart, 
nor  did  the  blustering  winter,  that  came  on  speedily, 
congeal  my  high  ardor.  My  twilight  hours  were 
now  consumed  to  a  purpose.  I  committed  my 
gorgeous  fancies,  my  burning  thoughts,  the  voice  of 
my  high  hopes,  to  paper  ;  and  as  the  frail  bulk  accu 
mulated,  I  sent  it  away  from  time  to  time,  to  tho 
object  upon  which  they  all  centered.  Responses 
came,  at  intervals — far  too  long  intervals  in  my 
judgment — tender,  precious  responses,  like  that 
answer  she  gave  when  I  bent  towards  her  and  she 
leaned  towards  me,  only  angels  witnessing. 

Months  passed  on.  The  spring  came  ;  the  summer 
— a  year  went  on  its  way.  I  again  visited  home, 
staying  there  a  month.  I  saw  Fanny  twice — had  two 


284  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

long  interviews  with.  her.  At  the  close  of  the  second, 
and  just  as  I  was  leaving  her,  she  gave  me  two 
letters,  bidding  me,  as  she  had  at  another  time,  to 
read,  and  then  destroy  them.  I  read  them  a  few 
hours  after,  and  with  a  kind  of  dread  consigned  them 
to  flames.  They  burnt  as  though  alive,  and  their 
very  ashes,  quivering  upon  the  coals,  appeared  as 
fiendish  ghosts,  vengeful  at  the  destruction.  Such 
passion  as  there  was  in  those  letters,  so  fiery  in  its 
voice,  so  earnest,  even  in  its  subtlety, — it  seemed  in 
burning  them,  I  was  burning  the  soul  that  had  given 
them  being.  Poor  Samuel!  He  was  unhappy. 
What  might  that  unhappiness,  heightened  into  des 
pair,  not  do  ?  I  could  not  dwell  upon  it. 

Again  I  was  at  my  studies,  rapidly  progressing  in 
rudimentary  acquirement.  Another  year  passed. 
The  stilts  of  great  boyhood  were  wearing  off,  and 
I  was  getting  to  be  a  man.  My  beard — a  shadow 
cast  before — made  a  modest  debut,  attesting  to  my 
having  achieved  my  growth,  as  wrell  as  to  the  proxi 
mity  of  manhood;  and  my  imagination,  fired  with 
the  indication,  led  me,  as  usual,  prematurely  into  the 
estate.  But  it  did  no  harm.  I  was  not  of  a  dispo 
sition  to  take  undue  advantages  of  any  position,  real 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  285 

or  supposed,  and  hence  cherished  my  new-blown  dig 
nity  rather  in  secret. 

I  had  in  fact  grown  much  older  when  I  visited 
home  this  time  ;  but  I  found  the  year  had  been  quite 
general  in  its  effect.  My  father  and  mother 'looked 
older,  and  Cynthia,  too — a  maiden  still.  Fanny  was 
not  older,  but  riper,  less  girlish.  It  was  during  this 
visit  that  I  revealed  to  Cynthia  the  relation  I  sus 
tained  to  Fanny — revealed  it,  and  found  it  was  an  old 
fact  to  her !  This  time,  too,  I  talked  more  of  practi 
cal  affairs  with  my  adored ;  speaking  of  the  time 
when  she  should  be  my  wife,  and  we  should  go  out 
hand  in  hand  to  meet  the  rough  world.  Her  reply 
was  like  the  first.  What  had  words  to  do  with  it  ? 

My  studies  were  resumed  again,  and  time  passed 
smoothly,  swiftly. 

You  may  wonder  I  did  not  again  meet  with  Sam 
uel.  He  was  not  in  Harrisburg.  He  was  in  Boston 
—had  gone  there  the  autumn  after  his  illness,  and  up 
to  this  time  had  not  been  back.  So  Cynthia  had  told 
me  at  my  last  visit,  and  she  had  gathered  her  inform 
ation  from  a  conversation  between  old  Abel  and  my 
father,  which  she  had  overheard.  He  had  not  writ 
ten  to  Fanny  during  the  year  past,  which  I  was  more 


286  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

happy  to  know,  than  I  would  have  been  willing  tc 
acknowledge.  The  only  cloud  had  gone  out  of  my  sky. 

Time  passed  smoothly,  swiftly.  Another  year 
came  round.  I  did  not  make  my  annual  visit,  for  at 
the  usual  season  I  was  particularly  engaged,  and 
afterwards  I  thought  I  would  wait  till  spring.  I  felt 
the  need  of  it  less  for  having  seen  all  our  folks 
at  the  city,  whither  they  had  come  mainly  to  visit 
Joshua,  they  said,  and  scold  him  for  not  having  ful 
filled  his  promise  of  coming  out  there.  Joshua  was 
thunderstruck  at  the  recollection  of  his  promise  ;  but 
directly  took  refuge  under  the  sophistry  that  he  had 
not  promised  to  come  in  person,  and  he  hoped  they 
had  found  no  fault  with  his  proxy — meaning  me. 
Yet  he  concluded  finally  with  a  direct  pledge  that 
he  would  be  with  them  for  a  season,  about  one 
year  from  that  time. 

Spring  came  ;  but  I  did  not  go  then.  Joshua  was 
going  in  the  autumn  ;  I  was  very  busy ;  six  months 
would  finish  my  course,  and  then  I  could  remain  at 
home  half  a  year  if  I  wished;  a  long  absence  would 
only  add  sweetness  to  the  meeting.  Such  were  the 
considerations  which  determined  me  not  to  go.  But 
I  repented  me  soon  after ;  for  early  in  the  summer  I 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  287 

received  a  letter  from  Cynthia,  stating,  among  other 
facts  of  interest,  that  Samuel  had  been  there,  remain 
ing  more  than  three  weeks,  and  had  called  twice  on 
Fanny  ;  and  to  heighten  the  effect  of  this  detestable 
intelligence,  I  read  about  the  same  time  a  long  letter 
from  Fanny  herself,  in  which  I  found  no  allusion  to 
Samuel  nor  his  visits.  I  was  wretchedly  impatient. 
But  the  die  was  cast. 

At  last  the  appointed  time  arrived,  and  we — -Joshua 
and  I — went.  It  was  late  in  the  season — almost  win 
ter;  but  we  had  a  pleasant  journey,  rich  in  small 
incident,  turned  to  account.  Joshua  was  in  the  best 
of  good  humors  all  day  ;  and  the  flow  was  only  fresh 
ened  on  our  coming  to  the  old,  familiar  mansion. 
Though  it  was  past  ten  o'clock  when  we  arrived,  and 
we  called  the  inmates  out  of  warm  beds,  there  was 
no  lack  of  cordiality,  and  we  all  sat  up,  nor  was  bed 
alluded  to  till  nearly  three  in  the  morning. 

I  was  not  long  in  making  my  appearance  before  the 
idol  of  my  heart.  It  was  the  third  day,  and  I  was  with 
her  several  hours — blessed  hours,  without  bitterness. 
She  told  me  about  Samuel  in  such  a  way  that  I  was 
satisfied  with  her ;  but  my  old  dread  was  no  way 
lessened.  Ah!  no. 


288  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

I  have  thus  hurried  over  several  years  of  my  life — 
leaving  out  much  that  I  would  like  to  have  told — in 
order  that  I  may  dwell  more  minutely  upon  what  fol 
lowed.  Bear  with  me  awhile  longer,  and  I  will  relate 
it  to  you.  I  had  been  at  home  two  weeks,  perhaps  a 

lay  or  two  more,  when  one  afternoon,  on  returning 
•«.  rom  a  short  excursion  by  myself,  I  found  the  family, 

tfith  Joshua,  gathered  around  the  sitting-room  fire, 
apparently  in  a  close  consultation,  which  I  interrupted 
Dy  my  entrante.  Discovering  that  they  would  not 
resume  while  I  was  present,  I  went  out  again.  In 
about  an  hour  I  returned  and  was  immediately  beset 
by  Joshua. 

"Young  Deacon  Ahasuerus  Munn,  sir.  In  con 
clave  it  has  been  considered,  in  conclave  it  has  been 
decided ;  amen.  Listen !  The  treasures  of  your  native 
land  have  been  lavished  upon  you.  The  most  distin 
guished  and  dishonored  representative  of  the  Science 
to  which  you  have  devoted  yourself — meaning  the 
speaker — has  exhausted  his  resources  upon  you.  Others 
less  dishonored,  have  been  exhausted  in  rendering 
assistance,  and  now  it  is  finished.  In  view  of  these  facts, 
sir,  it  has  been  decided  in  conclave  that — now,  Dea 
con,  it  is  a  serious  matter,  more  serious  than  it  will  at 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  289 

first  appear  to  yon,  and  very  serious  to  the  rest  of 
us,  and  we  have  a  secret  hope  you  will  not  consent. 
It  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  to  have  you  go 
to  Europe,  and  see  if  you  can  learn  something  that 
you  would  not  be  likely  to  learn  here.  I  know  yon 
are  young ;  but  if  you  wait  till  you  are  married,  you 
never  will  go,  and  so  will  end  another  hope  of  mine. 
Now  say  yes,  or  no,  or  nothing,  eh?  How  do  you 
like  the  idea  ?" 

To  Europe !  The  idea  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was 
overwhelming,  and  I  laughed  incredulously. 

"  ~No  forsaken  babes  were  ever  more  sincere  in  their 
vocal  demands  than  we  are  in  ours,"  said  Joshua. 
"  Will  you  go,  or  not  ?" 

"  You  press  rather  close,"  said  I  in  reply.  "  You" 
— I  had  fallen  into  a  temporary  habit  of  modern 
address,  being  so  much  with  Joshua — "  had  no  need 
of  asking  my  consent  to  this  thing.  You  might  with 
the  utmost  safety  presupposed  it." 

"  So  I  feared,"  observed  Joshua.  "  And  now  let 
us  drop  the  subject  for  the  present." 

The  first  thing  after  getting  accustomed  to  the 
glorious  idea,  was  to  communicate  it  to  Fanny,  of 
course.  Before  I  did  it,  however,  the  time  of  departure 

13 


290  GRfcEN 

had  been  fixed,  and  sundry  other  general  arrange 
ments  had  been  made.  I  was  to  start  on  the  first  of 
April  following,  and  was  to  remain  one  year.  1 
broke  the  intelligence — literally  smashed  it — to  Fanny 
— for  I  was  too  full  to  allow  circumlocution.  She 
received  it  quite  calmly  at  first,  but  directly  after 
wards  exhibited  more  feeling  than  I  had  anticipated. 
It  seemed  to  crush  her  exceedingly.  It  was  not  ordi 
nary  grief  so  much  as  deep  dread  that  possessed  her. 
I  thought  it  unreasonable,  and  told  her  so — gently. 
She  made  no  reply,  and  I  regretted  my  remark,  see 
ing  that  it  deepened  her  depression,  and  sought  to 
divert  her  by  dwelling  upon  the  advantages  I  should 
reap  from  the  tour ;  the  pleasure  I  should  derive  > 
the  joy  of  the  future  meeting  after  which  there  would 
be  no  separation  till  death — dwelling  emphatically 
upon  the  short  time  I  should  be  gone.  "  Only  a  year," 
I  concluded,  trying  to  look  encouraging,  not  altogether 
with  success,  I  fear,  for  her  unaccountable  feeling 
had  begun  to  affect  me  slightly.  I  felt  the  myste 
rious  influence  more  when  she  said  in  reply,  looking 
sorrowfully  into  my  face — there  was  terror,  too,  in  the 
look — and  speaking  as  though  partly  to  herself:  "  A 
year  is  a  great  while — a  great  while.  Till  thou  come 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  291 

back  ?  Yes ;  I  shall  live.  I  feel  strangely.  I  know 
tliou  wilt  come  back.  I  don't  know  why  I  feel  so. 
If  I  could  die  when  thou  goest  away.  I  would  rather 
die.  O,  Ahasuerus,  I  am  so  unhappy !" 

I  was  very  unhappy  myself  after  she  said  this,  and 
for  the  moment  had  more  than  half  a  thought  of 
revoking  iny  determination.  Yet  when  I  went  home, 
and  took  counsel  of  my  better  judgment,  I  resolved 
to  treat  the  strange  exhibition  as  a  trifle  which  she 
would  join  with  me  in  laughing  at  on  some  future  day. 
In  this,  I  succeeded  until  I  saw  her  again  in  private. 
It  was  the  day  after  Joshua's  departure — which  hap 
pened  at  the  expiration  of  six  very  pleasant  weeks — 
and  I  had  a  long  interview  with  her — painful,  and 
discouraging.  She  saw  that  her  state  of  mind  was  a 
source  of  unhappiness  to  me,  and  promised  not  to 
indulge  in  it.  I  left  her  with  that  promise  upon  her 
lips. 

When  I  saw  her  again,  some  time  afterwards,  she 
was  more  cheerful,  yet  I  could  plainly  see  it  was 
the  cheerfulness  of  resignation  rather  than  of  hope. 
"What  made  her  act  so  strangely  ?  I  asked  her  seri 
ously,  in  an  investigating  spirit.  But  she  could  only 
tell  me  she  felt  so.  I  was  perplexed  and  saddened 


292  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

by  it.  If  she  had  shed  a  flood  of  tears  now  and 
then,  while  talking  about  the  expected  separation — 
like  a  -^ornan,  and  naturally,  I  should  have  enjoyed 
such  conversations  as  alluded  to  it,  as  a  sweet  luxury. 
As  it  was,  I  avoided  them.  I  saw  she  could  not  help 
her  sentiment,  and  I  ceased  to  blame  her,  even  in  my 
heart ;  but  it  made  me  melancholy,  and  more  than 
once  my  resolution  was  seriously  shaken.  I  began  in 
a  general  way  to  dread  the  approaching  time  of 
departure,  and  if  it  had  been  fixed  three  months  later 
I  am  quite  confident  I  should  not  have  gone. 

As  the  day  came  to  be  near  at  hand,  however,  my 
ambition  and  hopes  were  quickened,  so  much  so 
that  when  the  parting  hour  came,  I  bore  myself  like 
a  man.  She  did  not  weep,  even  when  I  held  her  in 
my  arms  and  impressed  the  last  farewell  kiss,  but 
stood  shrinkingly,  with  downcast  eyes,  saying — onco 
only — in  a  tone  like  the  dying  tremor  of  a  harp  moved 
by  the  wind — "  Good-by  !"  I  knew  that  tone  was 
from  a  soul  wrung  with  deepest  anguish,  clouded 
with  despair — my  own  soul  told  it  me.  But  Europe 
was  before  me.  The  fondest  hope  of  youthful  imagi 
nation  was  to  be  gratified.  Should  I  falter  because 
of  the  superstitions  of  an  over-loving  heart?  In 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  29b 

this  light  I  considered  it,  and  walked  boldly 
away. 

It  had  been  "  in  conclave  decided  "  that  my  father 
and  Joshua  should  accompany  me  as  far  as  Philadel 
phia,  hence  the  parting  from  home  was  not  so  pain 
ful  as  it  would  otherwise  have  been — to  me  ;  to  those 
who  remained  there  was  no  alleviation.  They  were 
all  there,  Delia  and  her  family,  too,  standing  at  the 
old  front  gate,  that  morning  when  I  returned  from 
saying  good-by  to  Fanny.  The  carriage  was  in 
readiness.  They  all  knew  where  I  had  been,  yet 
none  alluded  to  it.  They  were  all  weeping,  little 
Isaac,  too,  this  time.  Each  embraced  me  fervently, 
saying,  "  God  bless  thee  !"  each  in  turn,  and  the 
painful  ceremony  was  over.  My  father  was  in  the 
carriage,  sitting  upright  very  firmly,  and  looking 
afar  off  while  this  was  being  done,  taking  apparently 
no  note  of  surrounding  circumstances,  until  I 
mounted  to  his  side ;  then  he  coolly  asked  me  if  I 
was  ready,  and  upon  my  replying  in  the  affirmative, 
he  uttered  some  severe  sounds  to  the  horses,  which 
they  obeyed  promptly,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were 
out  of  sight. 

At  the  village  we  left  the  carriage,  and  taking  the 


294  GKKEN    MOUNTAIN 

public  conveyance  went  on  to  Harrisburg.  Tliere  we 
were  joined  by  Joshua,  and  without  delay  proceeded 
on  our  journey  towards  Philadelphia.  Our  wayfaring 
experience  was  pretty  much  like  others'  on  similar 
routes,  being  varied  with  partaking  of  mixed  diet  in 
a  mixed  company,  and  having  our  pockets  divested 
of  large  coins  for  scant  equivalents ;  and  with  two  or 
three  incidents  such  as  a  horse  falling  and  breaking 
his  leg,  and  a  drunken  driver  falling  oif  his  box,  and 
breaking  the  third  commandment — pleasant  varia 
tions  when  we  could  have  no  other,  and  helping  to 
shorten  the  time,  which  was  long  enough,  but  at 
length  came  to  an  end  with  our  entrance  into  the 
City  of  Friends — "  of  .  Brotherly  Love,"  remarked 
Joshua  ;  "  so  named  in  allusion  to  the  early  settlers, 
I  suppose."  It  was  Joshua's  first  pleasantry  since  we 
had  set  out,  and  it  was  quite  refreshing.  He  had  all 
the  way  been  very  solemn,  discoursing,  when  he  said 
anything,  upon  things  which  belong  to  the  dark  side 
of  life. 

Here  I  was  to  separate  from  the  last  landmarks  of 
the  old  social  field,  and  it  came  to  pass  with  much 
poignant  grief.  Yet,  as  there  was  a  general  effort  at 
self-restraint  among  us,  the  ceremony  had  something 


TRAVKLLKRS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       295 

encouraging  in  it,  and  i  passed  away  from  their  sight 
upon  my  distant  journey,  gathering  fresh  hopes  every 
hour. 

At  New  York  I  took  passage  on  a  merchantman, 
which  set  sail  the  next  day  after  I  went  on  board. 

The  first  four-and-twenty  hours  were  very  pleasant, 
and  I  enjoyed  myself  so  much,  that  I  thought  a  life 
on  the  sea  must  be  very  desirable.  My  impressions, 
however,  respecting  sea  life,  were  considerably 
changed  on  the  third  day,  and  continued  changed. 
The  slimy  serpent,  sea-sickness — the  only  genuine  Sea 
Serpent — commenced  its  desolating  ravages  in  my 
defenseless  interior,  and  for  four  weeks  and  one  day  I 
was  as  one  overthrown — mournfully  cast  down. 
Mighty  Slough  of  Despond  the  Ocean  was  to  me, 
indeed  ;  yet  I  came  out  at  last  on  the  other  side. 
Almost  on  all-fours — I  needed  half-a-dozen  legs — I 
crawled  upon  the  pier  at  Havre.  "  If  such  is  Sea,  I 
am  content — albeit  without  content,"  I  observed  in 
the  first  assurance  of  solid  footing,  to  a  gentle 
man  of  glossy  exterior,  unmindful  of  the  circumstance 
at  the  building  of  a  certain  tower.  He  smiled — 
because  I  did,  I  suppose,  and  executed  an  amazingly 
graceful  bow,  coming  forward,  and  with  several 


296  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

more  faultless  bows  of  different  degrees  of  pro 
fundity,  and  not  less  than  half-a-dozen  score  of  false 
motions  in  half,  a  score  of  seconds,  communicated  at 
once  two  things — his  desire  to  render  me  infinite  ser 
vice,  and  my  first  impression  of  an  actual,  living 
Frenchman.  I  thanked  him  in  the  best  French  I  could 
muster — which  was  not  so  very  bad,  as  I  had  spent  the 
leisure  of  more  than  a  year  instructing  myself 'in  the 
language — declining  his  services,  and  he  retreated  ; 
but  the  impression  remained — remains  unto  this  day 
— to  my  mind,  the  whole  French  nation  in  small. 

From  Havre  I  proceeded  directly  to  Paris.  "  Three 
months  in  Paris,"  I  found  written  by  Joshua  in  my 
pocket-memorandum.  Accordingly  I  quartered 
myself  deliberately,  selecting  the  most  eligible  hotel 
and  fixings,  prudent  regard  of  course  being  paid  to 
my  pecuniary  resources. 

I  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  Paris  was  a 
large  and  thriving  place — a  great  city  ;  in  fact,  over 
grown,  too  large  to  be  comprehended  even  by  the 
oldest  inhabitant.  Everything  known  in  the  known 
world,  I  had  reason  to  believe,  could  be  found  there 
— from  the  lusty  orang-outang  down  to  a  Franciscan 
monk,  and  from  a  French  dandv  the  oilier  wav  to  an 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  297 

American  traveller — inclusive  of  all  that  they  or 
their  ancestors  ever  produced.  It  is  true  that  during 
the  three  months  I  staid  there,  I  never  sought  in 
vain  for  anything — except  a  letter  from  home.  I  was 
not  idle  in  the  pursuit  of  medical  and  pathological 
facts.  Though  necessarily  desultory,  I  felt  that  my 
time  was  very  profitably  spent,  and  1  had  only  to  regret 
it  was  not  three  years,  instead  of  three  months,  I 
could  pass  there.  But  I  must  go  the  round  in  one 
year,  therefore  I  obeyed  the  directions  which  Joshua 
had  inscribed,  and  went  to  Munich.  There  I  remained 
six  months,  making  very  creditable  progress.  At 
Munich  I  received  two  letters — one  from  Cynthia 
and  one  from  Fanny  ;  full  of  love,  both  of  them,  yet 
how  different !  The  same  mysterious  sentiment 
clung  to  Fanny,  I  could  perceive,  though  she  wrote 
in  a  strain  of  encouragement  and  hope.  I  answered 
them  both  elaborately,  assuring  Fanny,  with  a  play 
ful  allusion  to  her  unnatural  solicitude,  that  I  would 
soon  be  at  home,  and  that  I  hoped  she  would  join  in 
the  great  laugh  at  her  folly. 

"Six  months  in  Munich,  three  months  in  London, 
and  then a  good  long  life  at  home,"  was  the  bal 
ance  of  Joshua's  entry.  I  returned  to  Paris,  intend* 

13* 


298  GRKKX    MOUNTAIN 

ing  from  there  to  go  to  London.  On  the  day  of  my 
arrival  I  fell  in  with  an  American,  a  medical  student 
like  myself.  There  was  a  similarity  of  temper  and 
views,  as  well  as  ambition,  which  drew  us  together. 
We  became,  at  once,  warm  friends.  He  had  been 
some  time  in  Paris,  and  wTas  about  starting  for  Berlin, 
and  importuned  me  to  accompany  him,  saying  it 
would  hinder  me  but  a  short  time,  and  I  would  not 
lose  by  it.  In  an  evil  hour  I  consented  to  go  with 
him. 

The  day  before  '  we  left  Paris,  as  I  was  walking 
along  one  of  the  principal  business  streets,  somewhat 
heavy  of  heart,  for  I  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with 
my  promise, — perhaps  a  shadow  from  the  future  was 
upon  me, — I  was  accosted  by  name.  1  did  not  at 
first  recognize  the  voice,  nor  amongst  the  crowd  see 
its  source  either — "  Munn,  Doctor  Munn  !  Dang  it 
all !  you  know  me.  Old  friend  Toom — Sam  Toom," 
and  out  he  came  strongly  individualized  upon  my 
vision : — out,  and  up  to  me,  and  took  my  hand  in 
such  an  unreservedly  friendly  manner  that  I  actually 
felt  glad  to  see  him,  and  told  him  so.  "  Away  out 
in  Paris  here,  such  an  eternal,  watery  distance  from 
home.  I'll  be  danged  if  it  don't  do  my  heart  good  " 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  299 

— so  much  friendly  feeling  !  —  my  heart  warmed 
towards  him  every  moment.  I  was  about  speaking. 
"I  suppose,"  he  interrupted  "you'd  like  to  hear 
from  the  old  homestead,  and  so  forth.  I  was  there 
two  months  ago  this  day.  Have  you  heard  since  ?" 
He  saw  by  the  expression  of  my  face — how  quick  he 
could  read  faces  through  his  sleepy-looking  eyes  !—  - 
that  I  had  not,  and,  hardly  pausing,  concluded, 
"They  were  all  well,  and  .spoke  of  you."  He  held 
my  hand  all  this  time,  and  I  felt  I  was  getting  a  new 
impression  of  his  character.  He  knew  it,  I  believe, 
and  helped  it  on  by  saying  rather  abruptly — 
"  Friend  Ahasuerus,  I  am  different  from  what  I  used 
to  be.  I  have  sown  all  my  wild  grain,  deposited 
it  deep  in  the  earth.  I've  done  all  the  mischief  I'm 
going  to  do  in  this  world.  Henceforward  a  decent 
man  must  answer  to  the  name  Samuel  Toom."  I 
believed  him.  We  talked  of  several  interesting 
matters  after  that,  standing  there  together  an  hour  or 
more.  He  told  me  he  was  there  with  his  employer 
on  business.  He  inquired  particularly  about  my 
intended  movements,  and  on  my  expressing  a  reluc 
tance  towards  going  to  Berlin,  he  urged  me  with 
considerable  vehemence  to  go.  At  last  our  conversa 


300  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

tion  came  to  an  end,  he  asking  me,  at  parting,  if  A 
wished  to  send  anything  home,  as  he  was  going 
directly  there  on  his  return  to  America. 

He  came  to  my  lodgings  that  night,  and  I 
entrusted  to  him  a  brief  communication  directed  to 
Joshua,  informing  him  therein  of  my  change  of  route, 
and  of  the  probable  delay  it  would  occasion  me, — 
stating,  also,  that  I  should  not  write  again  until  I 
should  reach  London. 

"  You  leave  to-morrow,  do  you  ?"  observed  Samuel 
at  the  door,  as  he  was  going  away — it  was  the  third 
time  lie  had  made  the  observation  since  I  had  clearly 
informed  him  of  my  intention.  "  Yes,"  said  I  rather 
emphatically,  for  there  was  something  in  his  coun 
tenance  and  manner  that  irritated  me.  I  checked 
myself  instantly,  however,  ashamed  of  my  irritation, 
and  was  going  to  offer  some  parting  remark  in  a 
modulated  tone  ;  but  he  was  gone. 

"  Did  you  entrust  to  him  anything  valuable  ?" 
asked  my  friend,  who  had  been  present  during  the 
interview.  I  shook  my  head,  asking  in  turn  why  he 
inquired.  Instead  of  telling  me  the  reason,  he  spoke 
of  something  else,  and  I  thought  no  more  then  of  the 
matter. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  301 

The  next  day  we  left  for  Berlin.  At  the  first 
stopping-place  I  took  up  the  morning  paper  to  while 
away  a  few  minutes  during  change  of  horses,  and,  as 
I  ran  over  the  local  items,  discovered  the  following : 

"  CASUALTY. — We  learn  that  yesterday  afternoon  a  young  medical 

student,  while  assisting  in  dissection  at Hospital,  accidentally 

cut  one  of  his  fingers.  Intense  pain  and  swelling  immediately 
ensued,  which  increased  rapidly  in  spite  of  all  the  remedies  used, 
and  about  ten  o'clock  he  died  in  excruciating  agonies.  His  name, 
as  we  understand,  was  Ahasuerus  Munn,  an  American,  in  Paris  to 
complete  his  studies." 

"  Singular  coincidence  of  name  and  pursuit,"  I 
observed  to  my  companion. 

"  Indeed,  I  think  it  is,"  he  replied,  and  we  laughed 
at  it. 

"  Our  journey  was  long,  longer  than  I  had  anti 
cipated,  yet  pleasant.  The  country  we  passed 
through  is  world-renowned,  and  between  my  friend 
and 'myself  there  was  historic  lore  enough  to  give 
deep  interest  to  much  that  we  saw. 

In  Berlin  I  found  so  much  to  give  me  pleasure  and 
intellectual  profit,  that  instead  of  two  months — the 
time  I  had  prospectively  allowed  for  my  sojourn — 
nearly  three  were  gone  before  I  was  ready  to  depart. 

Thus  far  fortune  had  smiled.     Thus  far  my  future 


302  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

had  grown  brighter  and  brighter — how  benign  !  how 
inspiring !  ISTow  it  was  suddenly  darkened.  On  the 
eve  of  departure  from  Berlin  I  was  taken  very  ill. 
For  several  weeks  my  life  was  despaired  of.  During 
this  illness  my  new  friend  showed  by  his  conduct, 
that  I  had  not  been  deceived  in  him.  Through  his 
unwearied  attentions — and  measurably  through  his 
skill,  I  was  rescued  from  the  grave. 

One  day,  during  my  convalescence,  a  German 
gazette  was  brought  to  me  that  I  might  amuse 
myself  in  reading.  Almost  the  first  paragraph  I 
read,  contained  the  startling  intelligence  that  the 
United  States  of  America  had  declared  war  against 
Great  Britain.  The  Last  War,  you  understand.  It 
was  bitter  intelligence  to  me.  Had  I  gone  to  London, 
as  Joshua  had  directed,  I  might  then  have  been  on 
my  way  home  under  safe  conduct.  ]STow  I  had  a 

desperate  gauntlet  to  run.  If  unsuccessful O,  my 

God  !  I  could  not  bear  the  dreadful  thought.  There 
was  something  more  than  hope  deferred  that  made 
the  conjecture  so  hideous.  A  vague  suspicion  was  in 
my  mind — too  vague,  if  not  too  dreadful,  for  utterance. 

As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  travel,  I  was  impatient  to 
be  on  my  way  home.  My  friend  consented  to  accom- 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  303 

pany  me  as  far  as  Paris,  and  together  we  thitherward 
directed  our  course.  We  arrived  at  that  city  in  safety, 
where  I  parted,  with  deep  regret,  from  my  companion, 
and  went  immediately  to  Havre.  I  there  found  an 
American  vessel — an  armed  brig — lying  in  port  for 
refit.  She  was  to  sail  in  a  few  days  for  New  York, 
and  with  gratitude  to  Heaven,  and  renewed  hope,  I 
took  passage  in  her.  Though  stimulated  for  a  time 
with  the  incident  of  finding  an  American  vessel  with 
out  delay,  that  was  going  directly  home,  a  strange 
uneasiness  began  to  haunt  me — deepening  into  melan 
choly.  It  was  a  great  distance.  The  ocean  swarmed 
with  hostile  fleets.  I  could  not  be  delayed — yet  I 
might  be.  There  was  a  multitude  of  adverse  chances. 
My  depression  and  anxiety  were  agonizing. 

Our  voyage  was  pleasant — very  pleasant — for  many 
days.  "We  were  almost  home.  The  load  was  light 
ening. 

One  evening — according  to  reckoning,  we  were  five 
days  fair  sailing  from  New  York — as  the  sun  went 
down,  a  large  vessel  under  full  sail,  appeared  upon 
the  western  horizon.  Hitherto  we  had  encounterd 
friends  only,  and  therefore  the  stranger,  though  con 
templated  with  distrust,  did  not  beget  much  anxiety 


304:  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

Before  dark,  it  was  announced  by  the  commander  tnat 
the  stranger  was  making  a  tack,  and  that  her  course 
lay  directly  towards  us.  Early  in  the  evening  the 
wind  ceased,  and  we  were  all  night  becalmed.  Suffi 
cient  anxiety  remained  in  my  mind  to  call  me  at 
break  of  day  on  deck,  where  I  found  considerable 
excitement  prevailing.  The  wind  had  sprung  up 
again  towards  morning,  and  every  sail  was  set. 

""What  is  the  trouble  ?"  I  asked  of  the  first  mate, 
who  was  passing  hurriedly,  with  a  drawn  sword  in 
his  hand.  He  answered  by  pointing  astern  out  upon 
the  sea.  I  looked,  and  to  my  deep  dismay  saw,  not 
more  than  a  mile  distant,  a  huge  man  of  war,  bearing 
directly  down  upon  us. 

I  will  not  detail  to  you  what  happened — only  say 
ing  that  on  our  part  it  was  a  hopeless  race.  In 
less  than  two  hours  we  were  overtaken,  and  after 
a  short  and  terrific  struggle  wrere  boarded.  In  my 
despair  I  fought — fought  like  a  madman.  With  the 
death  of  nearly  three-fourths  of  our  company,  the 
sanguine  deed  was  accomplished — the  brig  was  taken, 
and  those  of  us  who  had  been  secured  alive,  were 
thrust  into  the  hold  of  the  victor. 

"We  we-re  taken  to  Barbadoes.     On  the  way  I  was 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  305 

not  without  hope ;  but  when  we  arrived  there,  and  1 
was  cast  into  a  deep  dungeon,  and  the  massive  door, 
whicli  mocked  at  the  idea  of  escape,  was  closed  and 
bolted  upon  me,  I  sank  to  the  cold,  stone  floor, 

• 

longing  for  immediate  death — so  hopeless. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  I  was  in  such  utter 
despair.  It  is  true  that  to  be  imprisoned,  and  that, 
too,  far  from  the  ministrations  of  loving  ones,  was 
dreadful,  but  I  knew  the  war  could  not  long  continue, 
not  many  years  at  most,  and  when  that  should  end,  I 
would  be  free — perhaps  before.  Yet  these  I  did  not 
think  of.  I  wanted  freedom  then,  then — or  never ! 
The  dark  suspicion  to  which  I  have  before  alluded, 
had  deepened,  within  the  last  few  days,  into  belief. 
Samuel  had  dealt  treacherously  by  me — would  deal 
treacherously  to  the  sacrifice  of  my  long-cherished, 
most  precious  hopes.  How  clearly  I  saw  it !  How 
bitterly  did  I  curse  myself!  Infatuated  wretch !  stu 
pidly  blind !  Except  the  short  letter  I  had  entrusted 
to  him,  I  had  not  written  home  since  leaving  Munich. 
That  letter  would  not  be  delivered — ay,  I  knew  it. 
Why  did  I  not  return  to  Paris,  after  reading  that 
local  item — question  the  editor — know  it  was  not  vil 
lainy — before  I  went  on.  Stupid  fool !  laughing  at  it 


306  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

as  a  joke! — laughing  at  the  dagger  which  was  to 
enter  my  heart !  I  saw,  or  thought  I  saw,  the  rash, 
yet  fiendish  machination,  in  all  its  subtlety.  It  drove 
me  deeper  into  despair — if  such  could  be — the  more 
I  reflected  upon  it.  My  body  gave  way  under  the 
mental  torture.  A  raging  fever  consumed  me,  and 
wildness  was  in  my  brain.  They  took  me  to  the  hos 
pital.  How  they  saved  me  I  cannot  conceive.  My 
constitution  had  been  already  shattered,  and  I  had  a 
fixed  determination  to  die — I  demanded  death. 

When  I  was  again  able  to  walk,  I  was  taken  back 
to  the  dungeon.  Happily  for  me,  though  I  did  not 
so  consider  it  then,  I  was  furnished  with  a  comfortable 
room,  and  was  decently  fcd. 

In  the  exhaustion  of  strength,  I  seemed  to  have  less 
capacity  for  misery,  and  for  a  while  experienced  a 
sort  of  negative  enjoyment.  As  comparative  health 
returned,  a  deep  melancholy,  that  had  something  of 
resignation  in  it,  took  possession  of  me. 

Slow  months  passed.  I  was  as  one  in  a  dream.  I 
lived  only  in  the  present.  The  future — a  blackness 
from  which  hope  shrank;  the  past — in  sleep  it  came 
to  me,  as  a  nun  might  visit  the  haunts  of  early  life. 
Only  in  sleep  cc^ld  I  bear  it. 


TKAVELLElts'    ENTERTAINMENT.  307 

Could  they  but  know  that  I  still  lived — that  I  would 
some  day  come  to  their  loving  embrace.  They  could 
not  know.  They  believed  me  dead.  They  had  rea 
son  so  to  believe.  That  reason  might  not  have  existed. 
Bitter  consciousness!  I  could  but  curse  myself.  I 
have  said  I  lived  only  in  the  present.  There  were 
shadows  from  the  past — such  shadows ! — came  to  me 
when  I  was  not  asleep.  They  came  when  hope  would 
persuade  me,  and  cast  their  mantle  over  my  soul. 
"Samuel  is  unhappy."  "I  know  he  has  been  bad 
to  thee."  Did  that  tender  heart  know  what  it 
revealed  in  these?  Had  I  known,  I  would  have  told 
her.  But  I  only  know  they  were  grating  sounds. 
Now,  in  my  agony,  they  were  as  shafts  of  burning 
right. 

Sometimes  I  listened  to  the  whisperings  of  Hope, 
when  she  told  me  all  these  dark  fears  were  empty 
shadows — that  the  heart  which  had  throbbed  against 
my  own,  in  the  sweet  ecstasy  of  requited  love,  still 
beat  true  to  me — that  the  fiend  would  not  prevail. 
When  I  so  listened  I  was  happy — yea,  happ)1. 

Yet  it  was  all  a  dream — wild  and  dark — with  these 
few  gleams  of  light,  like  falling  stars. 

The   second   autumn    of   my    imprisonment    was 


308  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

gently  laying  waste  the  earth,  when  one  day  a  sealed 
note  was  put  into  my  hand.  I  eagerly  tore  it  open. 
It  was  my  passport.  I  was  free!  I  troubled  not 
myself  to  know  how  I  came  by  my  release.  I  wag 
free.  That  was  enough.  Free  to  go — where  ?  Home. 
T  trembled — not  with  joy.  "  Home"  was  no  longer 
a  word  of  enchantment.  It  conjured  evil.  I  dreaded 
to  go,  yet  could  not  stay.  The  wild,  dark  dream  con 
tinued. 

On  the  wide  sea,  beneath  a  kindly  sun,  and  fanned 
by  vivifying  breezes,  hope  revived  within  me.  When 
the  shores  of  my  native  land  opened  mistily  to  my 
f  ision,  and  the  sound  of  glad  voices  from  hearts  hop 
ing  without  reserve  filled  the  air  about  me,  I  hoped 
with  them,  yet  not  without  reserve,  alas ! 

"We  landed  at  New  York.  "Without  delay  I  went 
on  to  Philadelphia — Whence  to  Harrisburg.  I  came 
to  the  last-named  place  early  one  evening,  and  being 
fatigued  with  rapid  journeying,  I  put  up  for  the  night 
— at  the  old  hotel,  which  had  been  like  a  second  home 
to  me.  It  had  changed  hands,  as  I  saw  immediately 
on  my  entrance. 

"  Does  Doctor  Noyles  stay  here  ?"  I  asked — with 
what  eagerness  you  may  i  magine — of  the  clerk. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  309 

"  Am.  not  acquainted  with  the  gentleman,  sir.  I 
think  no  such  name  is  on  the  list,  sir." 

lie  looked.  While  he  was  looking,  a  middle-aged 
man,  well  dressed,  and  of  easy  bearing,  accosted  me. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Doctor  N"oyles  ?"  he 
said. 

"  I  was,  years  ago,"  I  replied. 

"  So  was  I,  many  years  ago." 

"  Have  you  seen  him  lately  ?"  I  inquired,  hoping 
through  him,  perhaps,  to  learn  Joshua's  place  of  stop 
ping,  as  the  clerk  had  just  denied  the  presence  of 
his  name  upon  the  list. 

"  About  two  years  ago  I  saw  him  last — an  hour  or 
so — at  Richmond,  Virginia.  His  health  was  not  good, 
and  he  was  suffering  under  some  bereavement,  that 
made  him  very  melancholy." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  the  name  of  the  friend  he  had 
lost  ?"  I  asked,  tears  starting  in  my  eyes — the  haunt 
ing  conjecture  that  I  had  believed  and  disbelieved, 
fought  against  and  shrunk  before  so  long,  must  it  yet 
be  true  ?  My  brain  swam  with  the  fierce  tumult  of 
the  instant. 

"  He  did  tell  me  the  name,"  said  he,  after  a  short 
effort  at  recollection ;  "  but  for  the  lifo  of  me  I  can't 


310  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

recall  it  now.  A  young  man  who  had  studied 
with  him.  Singular  I  can't  think  of  the  name.  Aha ! 
useless.  Died  in  Europe.  Accidental  death.  He 
seemed  to  mourn  very  much,  and  was  travelling  in 
part  to  divert  his  mind." 

It  was  true  !  I  had  seen  the  rash  machination  in 
all  its  subtlety.  Oh,  the  agony  of  that  moment ! 
I  trembled,  my  breath  was  short,  and  my  heart 
labored  as  in  an  overwhelming  flood  ! 

"You  are  not  well,"  remarked  the  gentleman,  look 
ing  upon  me  with  surprise  and  anxiety. 

Fearful  struggle  !  Yet  but  a  moment !  I  replied 
with  a  calmness  that  astonished  me — "  What  you 
have  said  interests  me  very  much.  That  young 
man's  name  was  Munn." 

"  "Well,  yes,  I  think  it  was.  Munn  ?  Munn  ?  Yes, 
It  was." 

"And I  am  he!" 

« 

"  Indeed  !  False  report,  then.  I'm  glad  of  it — 1 
am  so.  It  will  do  the  old  man's  heart  good.  He  has 
had  trouble  in  his  day — scathing,  corroding  affliction 
• — worse  than  death  by  fagot  Oh,  such  days  ! — awful 
days !  My  young  friend,  we  must  go  and  visit  the 
Doctor  together,  to-morrow.  "With  one  or  two  brief 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  311 

exceptions,  it  is  now  more  than  twenty-five  years 
since  we  have  sat  and  wandered  together  in  friendly 
intercourse,  and  I  have  come  nearly  five  hundred 
miles  in  these  troublous  times  on  purpose  to  see  him, 
and  renew,  for  a  while,  at  leisure,  the  broken  thread 
— broken — ah !  I  will  not  think  of  it. 

In  the  morning  the  acquaintance  of  the  previous 
evening  joined  me  after  breakfast,  and  we  went  down 
the  street  so  familiar — familiar  though  changed — 
towards  the  old  office.  "When  we  came  to  the  door,  I 
knocked.  No  answer.  I  was  about  to  knock  again, 
when  I  noticed  to  my  great  surprise  that  the  old 
sign  was  gone,  and  ajiew  one,  with  a  strange  name, 
occupied  its  place.  He  has  retired  from  business, 
was  my  first  thought.  We  should  not  find  him  in  the 
city.  No  place  more  likely  at  which  to  meet  him, 
than  my  father's  house.  I  expressed  these  to  my 
companion,  and  he  promptly  agreed  to  accompany 
me  home.  The  stage  would  not  go  out  till  after  din 
ner,  I  knew ;  and  to  pass  the  time,  I  proposed  a  walk 
about  the  city. 

It  was  a  pleasant  stroll,  though  to  me  melancholy. 
The  darkness  of  my  future — it  had  never  been  so 
dark  before— contrasted  with  the  distant,  beaming 


312  GBEEN   MOUNTAIN 

past,  which  every  step  brought  up,  weighed  upon  me, 
yet  it  was  like  the  sway  of  mournful  music,  that  peo 
pies  the  realm  of  oblivion.  We  were  returning. 
The  old  grave-yard  was  at  our  right  hand.  As  we 
came  along  to  the  gate,  my  companion  stopped,  tried 
it,  found  it  unfastened,  and  as  by  common  impulse, 
we  walked  in. 

"This  place  is  not  new  to  me,  my  friend," 
remarked  my  companion,  as  he  closed  the  gate,  "  nor 
do  I  come  here  from  idle  curiosity.  I  did  not  want 
to  come  to  this  sacred  spot  until  I  had  seen  Joshua, 

that but  I  could  not  resist.     Will  you  bear  with 

my  caprice    and  amuse    yourself  for  a  short    time 
while  I  go  to  yonder  corner  ?" 

His  voice  was  thick  with  emotion,  and  as  he 
looked  at  me  for  my  assent,  I  saw  tears  in  his. eyes. 

I  cheerfully  complied  with  his  request,  and  he 
went  away  towards  the  corner.  Interested  in  his 
movements,  I  looked  after  him.  He  drew  near  the 
corner.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  lifting  both  hands  as 
if  in  amazement.  Then  he  turned  and  beckoned  to 
me.  I  hurriedly  obeyed  his  signal,  and  as  I 
approached,  saw  that  he  was  standing  by  a  new- 
made  grave,  leaning  on  the  marble  slab  at  its  head, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  313 

and  convulsed  with  weeping.  What !  Oh,  it  could 
not  be — it  must  not  be.  "  Died,"  thus  I  read  from 
the  cold  stone,  my  heart  and  breath  stilled  with  the 
heavy  wave  of  anguish  that  is  like  death — "  on  the 
17th  of  July,  1814,  Joshua  ISToyles,  aged  fifty-five 
years  and  three  months." 

As  a  lurid  flash  it  was,  and  then  came  darkness — 
blindness.  Every  faculty,  every  sense  was  benumbed. 
I  should  have  sunk  to  the  ground  but  for  my  com 
panion's  timely  assistance. 

It  was  several  minutes  before  I  recovered.  When 
I  did,  my  friend  had  ceased  weeping,  and  holding  my 
hand,  he  talked  to  me — told  me  there,  as  we  sat 
together  upon  the  hallowed  earth,  what  in  happier 
days  I  had  so  wished  to  know.  Briefly  he  uttered 
it.  "  My  young  friend,  let  us  rejoice  that  he  is  gone. 
They  are  now  together.  You  see  another  grave 
here,  close  by  the  side  of  this  one.  In  that  lie  the 
remains  of  my  only  sister — once  so  full  of  life  and 
hope.  She  was  beautiful — a  frail,  spiritually  beauti 
ful  creature,  and  to  her  natural  gifts  was  added  all 
that  wealth  could  bestow.  Joshua  loved  her — wor 
shiped  her.  His  youthful  soul,  noble  above  ten 
thousand,  adored  her  as  its  high  angel.  There  was  a 

14 


314-  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

young,  proud  woman  lived  in  the  same  town — loom 
was  the  man  she  afterwards  married.  She  is  dead, 
now,  I  think.  This  woman  loved  Joshua,  and  sought 
to  win  him.  In  every  attempt  she  failed,  and  then 
in  a  despair  she  sought  revenge.  Joshua  and  my 
sister  were  to  be  married.  She  contrived  and  execut 
ed  a  plot,  dark  and  malicious  almost  beyond  belief. 
She  managed  to  persuade  my  sister  that  Joshua  was 
false;  she  even  went  so  far  as  to  demonstrate  by 
means  of  forged  letters  that  he  had  pledged  himself 
to  her,  and  had  sealed  the  pledge  with  a  criminal  act. 
I  was  young  then — a  sailor,  too,  in  distant  seas.  Had 
I  been  at  home,  it  would  have  gone  differently  with 
them  all,  perhaps.  My  sister  treated  Joshua  with 
scorn.  The  noble  youth  -sought  an  explanation,  but 
no  opportunity  was  given.  He  left  the  place,  and 
went — no  one  knew  where.  For  two  years  he  wan 
dered.  What  must  those  years  not  have  been  to 
him!  In  the  meantime  I  returned.  I  learnt  the 
facts.  I  knew  Joshua,  ay,  too  well  not  to  know  that 
he  was  innocent.  I  showed  my  sister  that  she  had 
been  deceived.  She  saw  it  plainly,  and  unspeakable 
anguish  harrowed  her  night  and  day.  Her  health 
forsook  her.  Pulmonary  consumption,  to  which  she 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  315 

was  predisposed,  took  fatal  hold.  She  was  near  the 
grave  when  Joshua  returned — ghastly  shadow  of  his 
former  self.  They  were  reconciled.  But  the  sun  had 
set,  and  there  would  be  no  more  day.  In  a  few 
weeks  my  sister  died — in  Joshua's  arms,  and  he  told 
her  before  she  ceased  to  hear,  just  as  she  was  passing 
from  earth,  that  in  heaven  she  should  be  his  wife. 

For  many  months  I  was  with  him  night  and  day. 
It  seems  to  me  no  mortal  could  be  more  wretched 
than  he  was,  and  live.  I  used  often  to  beg  him  to 
cease  his  wild  lamentations,  they  so  probed  me  from 
mere  sympathy.  Time  wore  it  away,  however,  and 
before  I  left  him,  he  could  speak  almost  with  calm 
ness  of  the  awful  event.  They  are  together,  now,  in 
heaven." 

The  stage  was  ready,  and  shaking  hands  with  my 
new  friend — he  had  now  no  need  to  go  with  me — 
I  was  soon  on  my  way  home — home,  as  one  borne  on 
a  subterranean  stream.  I  came  to  the  village  in  the 
nio;ht,  and  walked  on  towards  the  old  mansion.  As 

O          i 

I  drew  near,  the  wind  moaned  through  the  old  forest 
— a  voice ! 

I  will  not  tell  you,  I  cannot  tell  you,  how  ihey 
received  me.  A  wild  tumult  i>f  joy  it  was,  almost  too 


316  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

much  for  them  to  bear.  But  at  length  they  grew 
calm  ;  and  then  we  talked  together.  How  did  they 
get  report  of  my  death  ?  I  knew,  but  yet  I  asked. 
Samuel  had  shown  it  them  in  a  French  gazette. 
What  was  his  object — or  had  he  any?  A  dismal, 
fleeting  hope  that  he  had  had  none,  prompted  my 
inquiry.  He  had  an  object.  They  had  never  seen  it 
before,  and  now  thought  it  a  rash,  fool-hardy  scheme 
of  his.  "Yet,"  said  my  father,  "he  knew  the  politi 
cal  state  of  the  country.  He  knew  war  was  inevitable. 
It  was  a  desperate  chance,  and  he  adopted  it  despe 
rately,  with  hope  that  in  the  dangers  of  crossing  the 
ocean,  thee  might  fall  a  victim ;  or,  hoping  if  thee 
came,  to  accomplish  his  purpose  before.  He  had 
nothing  to  lose,  and  everything  to  gain." 

How  came  my  father  to  know  so  much  about  the 
scheme  and  its  object  ?  Something  had  publicly 
come  to  pass.  What  was  it  ?  The  question  was  in 
my  heart,  but  I  gave  it  not  voice.  I  could  not. 

The  next  day,  as  I  sat  in  Cynthia's  room,  looking 
towards  Mr.  Cline's — I  had  been  talking  of  my 
adventures — Cynthia  began  to  weep.  I  divined  the 
cause.  "TeJ.  me,"  said  I,  passionately,  "dear  sister, 
tell  me.  Do  not  reserve  it.  I  must  know  the  truth." 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  317 

"  Oh,  my  brother !"  she  exclaimed,  "forgive  her. 
she  clung  long  to  thee,  even  after  she  folly  believed 
thee  dead.  Samuel  was  good.  He  attended  divine 
worship.  He  joined  the  society.  Everybody  thought 
he  was  going  to  be  a  better  man.  The  Clines  thought 
BO  more  than  any,  and  they  encouraged  him.  He 
was  here  several  months.  At  last  he  asked  her  to  be 
his  wife.  She  refused.  He  importuned.  He  begged 
me  to  intercede  for  him.  Forgive  me,  Ahasuerus ; 
I  told  her  to  marry  him.  She  still  refused.  Her 
parents  insisted.  When  she  promised  to  marry  him, 
I  was  by.  I  never  heard  such  eloquence  as  Samuel's 
then.  She  told  him  she  would  be  his  wife,  but  he 
must  wait  till  the  next  spring.  When  she  told  him 
this,  he  turned  as  pale  as  death,  but  said  nothing.  He 
went  away  to  Boston,  or  somewhere.  In  the  spring 
he  came  back,  and  they  were  married.  They  are 
now  living  in  Boston.  His  health  is  very  poor,  and 
they  say  he  drinks.  lie  was  only  shamming.  Mr. 
Cline's  folks  know  it  now.  Pity  her,  Ahasuerus,  and 
forgive  her.  It  would  kill  her  to  know  that  thou  still 
livest." 

Thn^  my  hope  was  smitten  out  of  me,  crushed,  and 
buried for  ever? 


SI  8  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

Several  months  passed  gloomily  on.  I  had  no 
amhition  to  begin  the  practice  of  my  profession,  and 
delayed  it,  staying  around  the  home  of  my  childhood, 
wrapped  in  a  melancholy  abstraction,  which  my 
friends  labored  in  vain  to  dissipate. 

One  day — I  had  been  at  home  seven  or  eight 
months — my  father  came  from  the  village  in  an  un 
usually  blithesome  mood.  I  met  him  at  the  door, 
and  he  shook  hands  with  me,  though  he  had  not  been 
gone  more  than  two  hours.  I  was  astonished ;  and 
still  more  so,  when  he  put  a  newspaper  in  my  hands, 
pointing,  with  a  smile,  to  a  paragraph  headed, 
"DiED."  The  next  instant  I  saw  the  cause  of  his 
feelings.  In  connection,  I  read,  "  Suddenly,  on  the 

9th  inst.,  at  his  residence  in St.,  Samuel  Toom. 

(Pennsylvania  papers  please  copy.)"  The  paper  had 
come  from  Fanny  ;  her  own  dear  hand-writing  was 
on  the  margin,  and  on  the  wrapper. 

A  star  was  in  the  sky — a  morning  star.  The  long, 
dark  night  was  at  an  end ;  a  new  day  was  coming  to 
my  weary  soul. 

The  brother  went  immediately  to  Boston.  In  a 
few  weeks  he  returned,  bringing  Fanny  with  him. 

After  a  decent  interval,  I  visited  her.     She  was  not 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  319 

much  changed,  only  that  she  looked  more  sad  than 
when  1  had  last  seen  her.  Our  first  interview  was 
short  and  formal.  The  next  was  longer,  and  so  the 
next.  Then  all  restraint  was  taken  off.  We  wept  in 
each  other's  arms,  and  were  lovers  again. 

A  few  happy  months,  and  the  union  of  souls,  so 
long  known  in  heaven,  was  consecrated  "before  men, 
with  great  rejoicing;  for  everyone  round  about  knew 
the  history  of  our  love,  and  gloriously  exulted  in  the 
bliss  which  had  at  last  come  to  us. 

Gentlemen,  this  is  the  end  of  the  special  train  of 
facts.  You  must  make  your  own  peroration,  for  it's 
late,  I'm  sure,  and  I  must  go  to  bed. 

"  In  view  of  the  special  facts,  then, — the  train 
thereof,  I  should  say,' — and  the  importuning  of  a 
fact,  I  pronounce  this  meeting  actually  in  a  state  of 
adjournment,  si — ne die" 

Thus  remarked  the  lawyer,  with  labored  articu 
lation,  in  the  midst  of  a  most  distorting  stretch  ;  and 
we  all  arose  quietly,  and  quietly  went  our  several 
ways,  ending  in  bed.  ' 

The  following  Sunday — and  it  was  the  next  day 
but  one — I  stayed  at  a  farm-house.  The  family  all 
went  away  to  church,  and  left  me  alone.  As  I  had 


320  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

the  other  two  stories  sketched  down,  it  occurred  to 
me,  that  perhaps  some  day  I,  or  some  one  else,  might 
be  found  in  want  of  amusement ;  and,  taking  some 
how  a  special  interest  in  this  story — long  as  it  was — 
I  thought  I  would  add  it  to  the  others,  thus  making, 
at  least,  a  pleasant  reminiscence,  which  I  could  bring 
forth  on  a  future  occasion,  if  not  for  the  gratification 
of  some  one  else,  at  any  rate  for  my  own.  So  I  spent 
the  day  in  jotting  down  the  leading  points  of  the 
Quaker's  narration,  in  the  evening  consigning  all  to 
my  old  portmanteau  for  safe  keeping,  where,  in  a 
forgotten  corner,  they  remained  until  the  commence 
ment  of  the  present  occasion. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       321 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

(Or  course  I  did  not  tell  my  story  Yet  I  had  one 
in  my  head,  and  would  have  told  it  had  opportunity 
been  given.  I  introduce  it  here,  under  the  general 
impression  that  the  series  would  be  incomplete  with 
out  it.  It  is  not  a  story  from  my  own  experience, 
but  a  slightly  modified  one  which  I  remember  of 
hearing  when  I  was  a  boy.  An  old  man,  who  used 
sometimes  to  come  to  our  house,  told  it  once  to  my 
parents  and  myself,  on  a  quiet  summer  evening,  for 
our  entertainment.  He  told  it  with  a  great  deal  of 
feeling,  and  it  affected  me — a  child — very  much. 
That  it  will  have  a  corresponding  effect  upon  "  child 
ren  of  larger  growth,"  for  whom  it  is  now  intended, 
is,  on  my  part,  only  to  be  hoped. 

"With  this  parenthetical  preface,  I  proceed,  giving 
a  title  according  to  my  fancy,  and  adopting  the 
manner  in  which  the  old  man  told  the  story — as 
nearly  as  I  can  remember.) 

14* 


322  GKEEN  MOUNTAIN 

ELLEN'S  GKAVE. 

A  little  less  than  two  years  ago,  I  visited  my 
native  town.  Thirty  years  had  gone  by  in  the  in 
terval  since  my  leaving  it,  and  I  found,  naturally, 
that  great  changes  had  taken  place  in  everything 
almost,  and  in  nothing  more  than  in  the  old  church 
yard.  As  the  town  had  become  populated,  so  had 
that,  gathering  its  denizens  in  proportion.  Aristo 
cratic  obelisks  and  iron  railings  ;  heavy  marble  slabs, 
with  angel  figures  and  drooping  trees  elaborately 
wrought  upon  them  ;  small  slabs,  with  cherub  figures 
and  drooping  buds  ;  unhewn  slabs  of  common  stone, 
with  no  device  —  without  a  name!  Many,  very 
many,  of  these  were  new  to  me.  Many  of  the 
names,  too,  were  new  ;  yet  some  were  old — familiar 
as  household  words,  and  as  dear. 

It  was  a  sunny  Sabbath  afternoon,  in  early  autumn, 
that  I  first  went,  after  my  arrival  in  the  town,  to 
visit  the  old  grave-yard.  I  was  in  a  melancholy 
mood,  or  I  should  not  have  gone,  for  I  deem  the 
resting-place  of  the  dead  too  sacred  a  spot  to  be 
approached,  except  the  soul  be  pre-attuned  to  the 
solemn  strain  whose  echo  is  ever  there ;  and  as  I 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  323 

wandered,  reading  the  names  which  in  years  long 
gone  I  had  so  often  heard,  I  grew  more  melancholy, 
for  now  and  then  a  life-history — what  else  than  a, 
history  of  sorrows?  —  flashed  from  afar  upon  my 
quickened  memory.  Here  a  brave  man,  stalwart 
and  sublime,  who  had  fought  for  and  reared  a  pre 
cious  growth  of  innocence,  and  worth,  and  beauty,  to 
see  it  fade  in  its  ripeness  and  in  its  bloom — passing 
from  his  frantic  grasp,  yet  beckoning  to  him — had 
lain  him  down,  that  he  might  go  and  be  with  the 
treasure  he  had  lost.  Here  a  meek  woman,  a 
widow — many  years  a  widow — had  gone  to  rest ; 
rest  which  she  could  not  find  on  earth,  for  she  was 
the  mother  of  an  ungrateful  son.  Here  a  child,  an 
orphan  boy,  had  finished  his  earthly  course.  He 
was  a  child  of  promise,  and  in  his  death  there  was 
no  common  sorrow,  for  as  everybody  knew  his 
history,  so  everybody  loved  him. 

Thus  I  went  on,  enjoying  with  a  kind  of  mournful 
surprise  what  the  familiar  names  brought  up.  With 
mournful  surprise.  There  was  one  I  had  in  reserve. 
—It  could  not  surprise  me.  ]STo ;  I  knew,  ay,  well, 
where  it  was,  and  I  reserved  it  to  the  last.  When 
at  length  I  came  to  it,  lingeringly;  fascinated,  yot 


324:  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

stung  with  anguish,  I  removed  my  hat,  and  leaning 
upon  my  cane,  I  read  (though  I  had  no  need),  the 
inscription.  "  In  memory,"  so  it  ran  "  of  Ellen 
Lucas,  who  died  March  7th,  17 — ,  aged  19  years, 
one  month  and  three  days."  As  I  read,  I  wept.  It 
was  but  a  gush,  as  the  last  scene,  heavy  and  dim,  was 
before  me  :  —  the  gathered  friends,  the  flickering 
lights,  the  sobs,  the  broken  wails,  the  marble  figure, 
and  a  smile  which  the  spirit  just  departed  had  left  to 
tell  us  whither  it  had  gone.  It  was  but  a  gush,  for 
that  smile  carried  me  back  to  her  childhood.  I 
remembered  her  as  she  was  when  I  first  saw  her,  a 
prattling  little  creature,  her  words  yet  burdened  with 
the  charming  lisp  of  infancy.  Bright  blue  eyes  she 
had — how  bright ! — and  lips  that  might  have  kissed 
an  angel's,  yet  defiled  them  not,  and  around  those 
lips  and  bright  eyes  often  played  a  strangely  vivid 
smile — so  thrillingly  beautiful,  that  to  tempt  it  forth 
was  a  feast  at  which  the  heart  was  never  sated,  and 
which  could  never  be  forgotten. 

I  was  a  young  man  then,  studying  law ;  and  as  I 
went  to  and  from  my  place  of  study,  I  used  often  to 
stop  and  watch  little  Ellen  playing  in  the  yard  before 
her  mother's  house.  So  often  I  did  this,  that  she 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  325 

came  to  know  me  well,  and  would  come,  when  I 
asked  her,  to  the  fence  and  kiss  me.  One  day  as  I 
came  along,  she  was  sitting  on  the  step  at  the  gate, 
crying.  Touched  with  sympathy,  I  took  her  up 
gently  and  asked  the  cause  of  her  grief. 

"  I  called  them,  and  they  would  not  come,"  she 
answered  regretfully,  and  choked  with  sobs. 

"  Who  would  not  come  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  The  pretty  birds,"  was  her  reply.  I  questioned 
her  further,  and  she  showed  me  on  the  grass  a  little 
blanket  with  some  crumbs  of  bread  upon  it.  This 
she  had  prepared  for  some  birds  that  had  been 
singing  on  a  neighboring  tree.  She  had  called  them, 
and  they  would  not  come,  but  singing  awhile,  had 
flown  away.  "  Why  did  they  not  come  ?"  I  asked 
with  no  certain  object.  She  did  not  reply  directly, 
but  said  in  a  tone  wonderfully  pathetic  for  a  child, 
"  I  love  them,  but  they  don't  love  me." 

I  wiped  away  her  tears,  soothing  her,  and  pre 
sently  she  forgot  her  disappointment  and  its  cause. 
"Not  so  with  me. 

Little  Ellen  was  the  daughter  of  a  widow — her 
father  she  had  never  seen.  She  had  a  brother  three 
years  older  than  herself — an  only  brother,  and  she  an 


326  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

only  sister.  He  was  a  bold,  healthful  lad,  with 
strongly-marked  features,  and  a  fierce  energy  that 
seemed  almost  too  great  for  one  so  young. 

A  year  or  two  later,  when  they  began  to  go  to 
school  together,  I  remember  how  they  used  to  appear 
on  their  way  hand  in  hand — she  looking  at  him,  at 
the  trees,  at  the  birds,  and  flashing  her  strangely 
beautiful  smile  into  the  faces  of  passers  by — he  with 
his  jacket  thrown  open,  his  cap  almost  off  his  head, 
his  long  hair  tossed  by  the  wind,  looking  fierce, 
unutterable  things  into  the  great  future  which  was 
ever  opening  upon  his  gleaming  sight.  A  noble  boy 
— such  as  one  points  out  proudly  to  a  friend. 

I  had  not  ceased  my  tarryings  now  and  then  to 
watch  little  Ellen  in  her  sports.  One  day,  as  I  was 
passing,  her  brother  was  with  her  in  the  front  yard 
playing.  He  was  trimming  a  kite,  she  building  a 
play-house.  I  stopped,  and  stood  looking,  unobserved 
by  them.  Suddenly  she  turned  from  her  play-house, 
as  though  she  had  lost  all  interest  in  it  for  ever,  and 
asked  her  brother  what  he  was  going  to  be  when  he 
should  have  grown  up. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  engaged  with  his  kite, 
then  in  a  moment,  recollecting  himself,  continued, 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  327 

gazing  off  into  the  sky,  his  face  beaming  as  though  he 
saw  some  glorious  object — "  Yes  I  do, loo.  I'm  going 
to  be  a  great  man.  I'm  going  to  be  rich,  and  have  a 
gold  watch,  and  have  all  the  money  I  want  to  give  to 
beggars.  And  I'll  make  a  silk  kite,  and  have  a  cord 
ten-thousand-thousand  feet  long,  so  I  can  fly  it  away 
up  above  the  clouds  where  the  eagles  went  last 
fall." 

"  Wouldn't  you  ever  want  to  get  married  ?"  she 
asked  with  timid  earnestness. 

"  No,"  said  he  stoutly.  "  I'd  have  you  live  with 
me.  "We  shouldn't  have  to  go  to  school  then,  and 
we  could  do  just  as  we  please.  I'd  like  to  see  Ben 
Bottles  snow-ball  me  then,  and  say  he'd  tell  my  mother 
if  I  touched  him  !" 

"  I'm  going  to  get  married  when  I  grow  up,"  said 
the  little  girl  after  a  minute's  pause — "  I'm  going  to 
marry  a  prince  and  be  a  queen,  and  have  glass  dolls 
as  big  as  I  am,  and  gold  play-houses,  and  a  great 

room,  as  big  as  our  parlor,  full  of  flowers,  and 

everything." 

The  brother  seemed  not  to  have  heard  it,  for  he 
took  his  kite,  and  with  a  loud  hurrah  started  towards 
the  common.  She  turned  around,  looked  with  a  SOP 


328  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

rowful  dissatisfaction  upon  her  unfinished  play-hoi. -ae, 
and  walked  slowly  into  the  house. 

Thus  Ellen's  childhood  came  beamingly  to  my 
mind  as  I  stood  by  her  sunken  grave,  and  it  dried  my 
tears. 

Over  a  lapse  of  several  years — years  of  absence 
from  my  native  town — my  mind  leapt,  and  I  saw  her 
in  the  first  ripeness  of  womanhood — the  child  deve 
loped  and  intensified — still  looking  upon  the  world  as 
a  garden  with  flowers  springing  up  everywhere.  She 
was  beautiful  in  the  world's  estimation — very  beauti 
ful,  and  as  witty  as  beautiful.  The  proud,  whether  of 
riches  mental  or  material,  sought  her  society,  and 
flatterers  were  ever  humming  honeyed  words  in  her 
ear. 

I  renewed  her  acquaintance — not  to  sip  and  flattei 
as  others  did,  but  that  I  might  be  her  friend  and 
guard  her ;  for  I  knew  how  narrow  wras  the  pathway 
which  she  was  treading  with  such  airy  tread,  and  the 
depth  of  the  gulfs  which  yawned  on  either  side.  It 
was  a  pleasant  duty,  and  when  I  told  her  I  had  takan 
it  upon  me,  she  thanked  me  for  it,  and  with  the  deep 
earnestness  for  which  she  was  peculiar,  confessed  her 
need  of  a  firm,  sagacious  friend,  who  would  always 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  329 

tell  her  the  truth  and  love  her  for  her  virtues.  I 
should  not  perhaps  have  volunteered  to  sustain  this 
relation  to  her  had  her  brother  been  at  home.  He 
was  at  college — away,  pursuing  the  objects  of  his  high 
ambition,  and  scarcely  knowing  more  of  her  than 
that  she  was  his  sister,  and  that  he  loved  her. 

As  I  became  more  intimately  acquainted  with  her, 
I  noticed  a  strange  trait.  I  was  long  making  the  dis 
covery  complete,  for  she  kept  it  hid  in  her  inmost 
heart.  In  her  childhood  I  had  seen  it,  but  had 
deemed  it  then  only  an  idle  fancy,  and  now  hoped  it 
might  prove  nothing  else.  From  the  reading  she  in 
dulged  in  I  first  surmised  it,  and  then  from  remarks 
dropped  in  careless  as  well  as  in  earnest  moods.  I  at 
last  came  to  know  the  fact.  It  was  this :  An  un 
bounded  admiration  of  rank.  The  tinsel  and  the 
courtly  sound  of  rank  so  fascinated  her,  though  she 
knew  them  only  in  imagination,  that  the  land  of  her 
birth  was  to  her  an  object  of  contempt  because  it  did 
not  cherish  them.  Strange  trait,  indeed ;  yet  oftener 
felt  than  seen,  I  wis.  '  "When  I  sought  to  dispossess 
her  of  it,  it  was  hidden  deeper  from  me  and  disowned, 
and  I  relinquished  the  attempt. 

One  day,  several  months  after  my  return,  a  stran- 


330  GKEEN    MOUNTAIN 

ger  came  to  our  town,  and  took  lodgings  in  the  same 
hotel  at  which  I  was  staying.  The  fact  was  not  nota 
ble,  but  the  habits  and  appearance  of  the  individual 
were  somewhat  so.  He  was  apparently'  between 
twenty-live  and  thirty  years  of  age.  His  dress  was 

* 

of  the  latest  cut,  and  punctiliously  adjusted.  Upon 
his  upper  lip  flourished  a  heavy,  glossy  growth  of 
beard,  exquisitely  arranged.  His  hair  was  long  and 
curling,  and  was  combed  smoothly  behind  his  ears. 
He  wore  gold-mounted  spectacles,  with  side-glasses, 
completely  hiding  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  and  car 
ried  a  golden-headed  cane.  Among  the  folds  of  his 
shirt-bosom,  gleamed  an  ornament  of  strange  device 
— a  golden  heart,  intricately  wound  with  exceed 
ingly  fine  golden  wire,  and  pierced  with  a  diamond- 
pointed  dart.  Except  this  he  wore  no  jewelry. 

For  nearly  two  weeks  after  his  arrival,  he  was 
not  seen  below  stairs.  He  took  his  meals  in  his  room, 
and  received  no  company.  One  afternoon,  as  I  was 
standing  at  the  door  of  the  hotel,  watching  the  people 
passing  to  and  fro  on  their  divers  errands  of  good  or 
evil,  I  felt  a  gentle  touch  upon  my  shoulder,  and,  turning 
round,  I  saw  the  stranger  before  me.  With  the  exqui 
site  modulation  of  a  native  Frenchman,  he  addressed 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  331 

me  in  that  tongue,  soliciting  me  to  share  with  him 
the  unutterable  pleasure  of  a  short  promenade. 
Assuming  the  best  grace  and  the  best  French  I  could, 
I  informed  him  I  was  at  leisure,  and  should  be  happy 
in  attending  him.  He  placed  his  arm  in  mine,  and 
we  walked  on  together. 

"You  are,  as  well  as  myself,  from  foreign  parts," 
he  began,  still  addressing  me  in  French.  I  informed 
him  that  I  was  an  American,  rather  testily,  I  fear, 
for  I  thought  he  was  inexcusably  dull,  or  was  making 
game  of  me  ;  and  I  informed  him,  moreover,  that  my 
knowledge  of  the  French  language  was  very  imper 
fect,  and  requested  him,  if  he  could  as  well  speak 
English,  to  do  so.  Upon  this  he  craved  my  pardon, 
and  with  an  accent  as  perfect  as  had  been  his  French, 
he  proceeded  in  English.  "  I  was  laboring  under  a 
mistake,  my  dear  sir.  •  I  was  sure  you  were  French- 
born.  Can  it  be  I  have  been  so  mistaken  ?  You  will 
surely  pardon  me." 

This  left  me  in  so  awkward  a  predicament  that  I 
kept  silence,  and  we  walked  on  a  number  of  minutes, 
neither  of  us  speaking.  At  last,  becoming  somewhat 
annoyed  with  the  taciturnity  of  my  companion,  I 
turned  towards  him,  thinking  to  address  some  casual 


332  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

remark  to  him,  when  I  was  startled  with  the  steady, 
piercing  look  which  I  met.  The  sensation  of  being 
in  the  vicinity  of  a  huge,  wrathful  viper,  took  such 
deep  hold  upon  me  that  a  slight  shudder  shot  along 
my  nerves. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  he  quickly,  yet  carelessly, 
"  have  you  been  long  in  this  delightful  town  ?" 

Tliis  is  my  birth-place,"  I  replied,  "but  I  have 
been  absent  from  it  many  years,  having  returned  only 
a  few  months  since." 

"  Aha  !  Your  birth-place  ?  and  you  have  been 
absent  many  years  ?  It  must  be  pleasant  to  return 
from  distant  wanderings  to  your  birth-place,  to  meet 
your  old  companions ;  to  kiss  sweet  lips  that  were  at 
the  mother's  breast  when  you  went  away ;  and  to  waltz 
with  those  who  then  knew  nothing  of  passion's  glow ; 
to  read  in  the  cool,  steady  eye  of  the  matron,  the  tale 
of  passion,  ripe  then,  now  plucked,  enjoyed,  and 
existing  only  in  memory.  Indeed  it  must  be  pleas 
ant  ; — or  am  I  on  forbidden  ground  ?  Perhaps  you  are 
married?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  telling  the  truth.  The  next 
moment  I  continued,  with  a  wink,  "  I  prefer  single 
life ;  it  gives  greater  latitude,  you  know." 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  333 

He  saw  the  object  of  my  remark,  perhaps,  and  only 
responded  with  a  smile.  We  walked  in  silence 
again.  Suddenly  he  spoke  in  an  altered  tone. 

"  I  am  a  wanderer.  The  world  is  my  home — my 
inheritance  the  future.  Time  is  my  father.  All  will 
be  his,  then  why  not  mine  ?  I  like  ruins.  I  take 
after  my  father.  But  Pleasure  is  my  mother,  and 
pleasure  goes  before  ruins  ;  otherwise  life  would  be  a 
cart-before-the-horse  sort  of  an  affair,  and  we  would 
do  better  to  die  first  and  live  afterwards — not  having 
the  fear  of  death  before  our  eyes,  eh  ?  Isn't  that 
good  philosophy?" 

I  bowed  assent. 

"Would  you  think  I  ever  had  any  trouble?"  he 
continued,  resuming  his  gay  tone.  "  Yet  a  veil  must 
hide  something.  Do  you  understand  that  ?  I  have 
lost  much,  may  gain  much.  Aha  !  may  gain  a  great 
deal,  and  lose  it  afterwards.  So  goes  the  world.  But 
the  Devi1,  take  the  odds !  The  future  is  my  inheri 
tance.  Beauty  is  all  around  me.  I  can  enjoy  that — 
as  a  m/.m  of  principle,  you  know.  "What  is  man 
without  principle  in  this  world  ?  Do  you  know  what 
I  heard  a  dying  man  say  once  ?  Said  he,  '  I  would 
give  all  the  principal  I  possess  for  one  more  hour  of 


334  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

life.'  I  thought  at  first  it  was  a  blasphemy,  and  was 
going  to  be  horrified,  when  a  friend  whispered  in  my 
ear,  '  his  avarice  is  melting.'  '  Yes,  and  give  heed  to 
the  value  of  money,'  I  responded,  seeing  the  point. 
That  offer  was  about  equal  to  the  actual  performance 
of  a  fellow  of  my  acquaintance,  who,  in  a  fit  of  jea 
lousy,  determined  to  shoot  his  rival.  He  was  very 
rich,  and  that  the  justice  of  the  deed  might  stick  out, 
he  bartered  his  possessions  for  a  bank  note,  and  mak 
ing  a  wad  of  it,  heaped  the  favor,  with  the  addition 
of  a  little  lead,  upon  said  rival,  killing,  of  course,  two 
birds  at  once — three  in  fact,  for  they  hung  him,  not 
withstanding  his  generosity,  or  rather  because  of  its 
being  misdirected.  You  understand,  there  was  no 
object  in  defending  him.  I  tell  you,  you  must  have 
money,  if  you  wish  to  appear  in  a  favorable  light 
before  a  jury."  The  last  sentence  was  spoken  in  a 
low,  emphatic  tone,  as  though  it  contained  valuable 
information. 

Our  walk  was  finished,  and  we  re-entered  the 
hotel.  "  Will  you  go  up  to  my  apartment  ?"  he  asked, 
albeit  releasing  his  arm  from  mine.  I  did  as  he 
wanted  me  to — politely  declined,  and  we  separated. 

I  felt  relieved  when  he  was  gone ;  'yet  there  wag 
something  in  the  recollection  of  his  manner  that 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  335 

drew  me  towards  him,  and  I  would  fain  excuse  his 
lightness  of  bearing,  his  appearance  of  hollowness. 
There  was  an  undefined  impression  clung  to  me  that 
he  had  seen  great  trouble,  and  that  "  that  veil  did 
hide  something,"  and  in  spite  of  the  viperine  look 
that  had  so  startled  me,  I  felt  quite  warm  at  heart 
towards  him  as  I  dwelt  upon  the  recollection  of  his 
general  manner.  I  wanted  to  see  him  again.  This 
want  was  soon  gratified.  The  fourth  day  after  our 
walk,  I  received  a  note  inviting  me  very  politely  to 
come  to  his  room.  I  went.  He  met  me  with  great 
urbanity  of  demeanor,  leading  me  to  a  chair,  over 
whelming  me  with  solicitous  remarks  concerning  my 
health  and  prospects.  When  he  had  done  with  my 
health  and  prospects,  he  fell  to  talking  of  his  own, 
concluding.  "  I'm  very  lonely,  too,  here  in  this  little 
out-of-the-wTay  town — I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  it 
isn't  a  city,  you  know,  and  I  have  been  accustomed 
to  the  excitement  of  balls,  and  plays,  and  lectures, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know,  and  I  must 
have  a  substitute,  or  I  shall  absolutely  perish." 

There  was  much  earnestness  in  his  manner,  so 
much  that  my  sympathy  was  considerably  excited, 
and  I  told  him  I  would  do  all  that  within  me  lay  to 
afford  him  social  pastime.  He  expressed  much 


336  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

gratitude  for  my  promise,  and  to  convince  him  of  my 
sincerity,  I  invited  him  to  accompany  me  to  a  select 
party  which  was  to  meet  at  Mrs.  Lucas's  that  evening. 
He  accepted  my  invitation,  and  we  went.  On  the 
way  he  gave  me  a  card,  upon  which  I  saw  elegantly 
penned,  "  Leopold,  Paris."  "  You  will  please  to 
introduce  me  accordingly,"  he  said. 

In  the  faultless  elegance  and  soft  fascination  of  M. 
Leopold  that  evening,  I  saw  nothing  of  the  wayward 
uncertainty  which  he  had  manifested  to  me  when 
alone  with  him.  There  seemed  to  be  but  one  fepling 
in  the  company  towards  him — that  of  admiration 
and  respect.  Though  the  oldest  there,  so  completely 
did  I  yield  to  his  influence,  that  I  could  have 
embraced  him  in  the  ardor  of  strongest  friendship. 
Could  Ellen  remain  indifferent  ?  Her  feelings  were 
quite  too  evident.  Hours  after,  when  the  social 
ravishment  had  wasted  itself  in  sweet  dreams,  I 
awoke  in  the  calm  night,  and  reflected  upon  it.  I 
was  conscience-stricken.  A  still,  small  voice  stabbed 
me  with  its  murmuring  "All  is  not  well."  But  I 
hooded  the  tormentor,  saying,  "  If  bad  come  out  of 
it,  I  shall  have  done  my  duty.  If  there  be  danger, 
my  warning  will  avert  it."  Did  I  understand  the 
female  heart  ?  What  virtuous  bachelor  ever  did  ? 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  337 

From  that  time  forward,  M.  Leopold  seemed  to 
shun  me.  "Why  ?  Had  he  only  wished  to  use  me  ? 
Deep  as  it  cut,  I  could  not  help  the  inference.  When 
I  became  fully  aware  that  he  really  did  shun  me,  I 
repented  deeply  the  act  I  had  done,  and  with  vision, 
sharpened  by  the  injury  my  pride  had  sustained,  and 
anxiety  concerning  my  lovely  protege  I  watched  his 
movements  closely.  I  found  no  alleviation  in 
watching,  for  I  saw  too  plainly  that  Ellen  had 
attracted  him,  and,  though  the  warning  had  been 
given  and  repeated,  I  saw  that  he  was  taking  strong 
hold  upon  her  heart.  It  did  not  matter  now  to  say 
I  had  striven  to  avert  the  danger.  My  conscience 
smote  me  sorely  that  I  had  brought  them  together. 
Danger.  Is  there  danger?  I  sometimes  asked  my 
judgment.  He  is  a  villain,  my  judgment  told  me, 
and  I  believed  it.  Perhaps  he  would  deal  honorably 
with  her.  In  that  hope  there  was  cotnfort,  and  I  did 
not  resist  it.  Perhaps,  too,  prejudice  warped  my 
judgment.  I  had  only  my  first  impression  of  him, 
and  the  fact  of  his  shunning  me,  from  which  to  infer. 
In  the  former  I  might  be  mistaken,  in  the  latter  my 
feelings  were  necessarily  concerned.  Yet  that  would 
not  do.  Thirty-five  years  of  varied  experience  in 
human  nature  did  not  tend  to  promote  charity  in 


338  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

sucli  a  case.  Still  he  might  deal  honorably  by  her, 
and  upon  this  I  rested — uneasily. 

Of  course,  as  M.  Leopold  had  come  forth  into 
society,  the  whole  town  had  run  wild  after  him.  He 
had  become,  at  once,  the  talk  and  the  thought  of  all, 
and  continued  so.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  A 
foreigner,  with  a  courtier-like  name,  young,  hand 
some,  brilliant,  fascinating,  circulating  among  a  fash 
ion-loving,  yet  comparatively  unsophisticated  people. 
"When  I  saw  how  great  was  his  popularity,  I  wished 
much  that  I  could  think  of  him  only  as  I  had  seen  him 
that  first  evening,  at  Mrs.  Lucas's.  But  I  could  not. 

He  still  continued  to  shun  me.  Why?  Did  he 
wish  to  make  Ellen  his  wife,  what  could  be  his  object 
»n  thus  treating  her  chosen  friend  ?  If  not — ay,  then 
he  might  have  an  object.  I  had  not  thought  of  it 
so,  before  ;  yet  I  would  not,  when  the  idea  flashed 
into  my  mind,  allow  it  to  take  form.  I  was  power 
less  for  good,  and  must  now  abide  the  result  as  it 
might  be.  I  found  means  at  last  to  quiet  my  con 
science,  but  my  forebodings — foolish  as  I  tried  to 
consider  them,  sometimes — would  not  depart. 

M.  Leopold  was  often  at  Mrs.  Lucas's,  and  occasion 
ally  I  met  him  there.  I  could  not  help  but  admire 
him,  though  towards  me  he  was  so  refinedly  civil — 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       339 

so  exquisitely  icy.  "What  could  Ellen  do  but  love 
him  ?  And  when  I  looked  upon  him,  I  had  it  nqt  in 
my  heart  to  dissuade  her,  if  to  dissuade  her  had  been 
possible.  Yet  there  were  moments  when  I  was  alone 
and  calm,  in  which  I  would  have  made  any  sacrifice, 
.  ther  than  of  life,  to  have  induced  her  to  banish  him 
from  her  presence.  Thus  my  mind  wavered,  with  no 
tangible  cause.  The  vacillation  made  me  timorous, 
which  was,  perhaps,  the  chief  reason  why  I  did  not, 
the  third  time,  sound  my  warning  in  Ellen's  ears. 

M.  Leopold's  attentions  to  Ellen,  and  their  analogi 
cally-established  marriage,  became  the  talk  of  the 
excited  town,  and  except  where  envy  was  plainly  at 
work,  no  objection  was  urged.  All  believed  in  a 
sunny  result.  Had  anybody  else  such  first  impres 
sions  as  I  had  ?  Evidently  not. 

Walking  in  the  street  one  day,  I  was  most  agreea 
bly  surprised  at  meeting,  in  company  with  a  friend 
who  introduced  him  to  me,  Morgan  Lucas,  Ellen's 
brother.  I  had  known  him  well  when  he  was  a  boy, 
but  had  not  seen  him  since.  Time  had  done  much  for 
him.  Large,  yet  gracefully  symmetrical  in  form,  he 
itood  before  me  in  the  noble  bearing  of  fully  deve 
loped  manhood.  The  same  fierce,  dark  eye,  now 
illumined  with  the  meaning  fire  of*  high-toned  intelli 


34:0  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

gence,  and  steadied  with,  the  experience  of  profitably 
spent  years.  He  had  just  returned  from  college,  and 
was,  so  he  said,  now  prepared  to  enter  upon  the 
duties  of  life.  Alas  !  that  the  first  duty  was  to  be  so 
severe.  But  a  wise  Ruler  had  decreed  it. 

The  next  day  he  called  at  my  office,  x  was  alone 
when  he  came.  After  the  first  gush  of  friendly  greet 
ing,  I  saw  that  a  shade  rested  upon  his  countenance. 

"Have  you  seen  Ellen,  lately?"  said  he,  with  a 
tone  of  voice  in  which  anger,  sadness,  and  tenderness 
were  strangely  blended. 

"  Last  week,"  I  replied ;  "  why  do  you  ask?" 

"  Do  you  know  that  fellow  who  styles  himself  Leo 
pold,  who  is  hanging  about  town  here,  doing  nothing? 
He  boards  at  the  same  hotel  with  you,  I  believe." 

"I  know  him,  yes;  but  I  know  nothing  about 
him,"  I  answered,  far  more  deeply  interested  than  I 
wanted  to  appear. 

"  "Well,  he's  a  scamp — take  my  word  for  it." 

"  Have  you  seen  him  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  He  came  to  our  house  last  night.  He's  a  talented 
rogue,  though.  He  made  an  excellent  show.  But  I 
could  read  him.  Oh !  I  hate  that  cobra-de-capella 
look  of  his." 

Our  first  impressions,  then,  agreed  ;  but  I  did  not 


TRAVELLERS    ENTERTAINMENT. 

betray  my  feelings,  only  remarking,  "  I  am  sorry  he 
does  not  please  you,  for  it  is  said  lie  is  to  be  your 
brother." 

I  had  gone  too  far.  He  put  his  hand  upon  my 
shoulder,  and  looking  into  my  face  with  a  keen,  ear 
nest  glance,  as  though  he  would  read  my  soul,  said — • 
"  Do  you  remember  Ellen  and  me  when  we  wrere 
thoughtless  children  ?  Do  you  remember  how  I. 
loved  her  then  ?  Do  you  know  that  that  love  has 
grown  with  my  growth,  centering  all  my  love  for  the 
sex  in  her,  until  my  very  life  would  seem  to  depend 
upon  hers  ?  I  know  you  were  a  friend  to  us  children, 
and  I  believe  you  are  our  friend  now.  If  you  are, 
do  not  mock  me  so  with  words.  If  I  ever  needed 
the  judicious  support  of  an  experienced  friend,  I  do 

now.  Mr.  D ,  I  believe  that  Leopold  to  be  a 

Bcoundrel,  and  that  he  does  not  intend  to  marry 
Ellen,  but  to  ruin  her — if — Oh,  my  God  !  Don't  let 
me  think  it !" 

The  veil  I  had  assumed  was  gone.  "  Morgan," 
said  I,  grasping  his  hand,  "  I  am  your  friend,  and 
you  may  open  your  heart  to  me.  Now  tell  me  why 
yon  think  he  is  a  villain." 

'•  Well,  I  will,"  he  replied.  "This  morning  I  was 
talking  with  Ellen  about  him.  "With  the  utmost  sin 


342  GKKEN    MOUNTAIN 

cerity  she  told  me  lie  was  a  prince  in  disguise, 
'Prince  of  blacklegs,'  said  I.  'Oh,  don't  talk  so, 
brother,'  said  she,  with  that  deep  tone  of  injured  love 
which  you  know  she  might  have  on  such  an  occasion, 
and  forthwith  brought  me  a  letter  which  purported  to 
be  from  a  distinguished  man  in  France,  written  in 
English,  mind  you.  In  that  letter  he  was  addressed 
as  '  His  Most  Serene  Highness,'  and  lots  of  other  such 
nonsense.  I  asked  her  to  let  me  see  some  of  his  hand 
writing,  which  she  did  with  that  open  confidence  I 
BO  love  in  her,  dear  girl !  I  compared  the  writing 
carefully,  and  there  it  was,  as  plain  as  day,  the  same. 
Now,  you  know  her  weakness,  and  don't  you  suppose 
he  knows  it  ?  And  do  you  suppose  he  would  have 
played  that  trick  off  upon  her,  if  he  only  wished  to 
marry  her  like  an  honest  man  ?  Strange  that  she 
don't  see  it !  I  told  her  so ;  but  she  began  to  cry,  and 
that  was  the  last  of  it,  then,  of  course.  Oh  !  I  hope  it 
is  not  too  late." 

I  knew  not  what  to  say.  Here  my  worst  apprehen 
sions  were  taking  the  form  of  reality.  I  arose  and 
walked  the  floor  of  my  office,  thinking  of  what  I  should 
advise.  I  could  think  of  no  better  course  than  to  wait 
and  watch.  "We  can  do  nothing  except  as  we  may 
persuade  her,"  I  said  at  last.  "Perhaps  what  you 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  343 

said  this  morning  may  have  an  effect."  I  talked  on 
for  some  time  in  this  strain,  and  then  he  left  me,  pro 
mising  to  come  again  the  next  day.  When  he  was 
gone  I  sat  down  to  reflect  more  calmly.  M.  Leopold 
is  a  villain,  that's  clear,  thought  I.  His  designs  re 
garding  Ellen  have  been  base,  that's  also  clear.  Have 
those  designs  been  already  accomplished?  I  must 
not  believe  it.  Yet  there  was  a  dreadful  sense  of  cer 
tainty  in  the  surmise.  Some  one  had  whispered  in 
my  ear  that  morning  that  M.  Leopold  was  going 
away — whispered,  because  there  was  little  foundation 
for  the  report — and  because  (it  was  a  shrewd  guess  for 
anybody  to  make)  Ellen  would  be  so  disappointed. 
Pressure  of  business  had  kept  the  report  out  of  my 
<nind,  until  Morgan  came.  I  would  not  tell  him — no  ; 
ie  knew  enough  already.  But  now  it  was  before  me, 
md  I  felt  sick  at  heart.  If  that  were  true,  all  was 
true  !  That  must  determine  it.  Yet  we  must  not 
be  idle.  No,  we  would  watch  lynx-eyed.  If  not  now 
too  late,  if  not  already  gone  down  into  that  dread  gulf 
which  is  fathomless,  our  kindly  grasp  would  draw  her 
from  the  brink.  It  seemed  almost  a  vain  hope,  yet  I 
encouraged  it,  and  thus  dismissed,  or  tried  to,  the  har 
rowing  theme. 
The  next  morning,  as  I  went  early  to  my  office,  1 


344 


GREEN   MOUNTAIN 


was  painfully  surprised  to  find  Morgan  standing  at 
my  door.  Before  I  reached  him  I  saw  that  something 
had  transpired,  for  his  face  was  pale  and  downcast. 
As  I  came  up  to  him,  he  took  my  hand,  and  looked 
earnestly  at  me  a  moment,  yet  did  not  speak.  "We 
entered  the  office  and  sat  down.  For  several  minutes 
he  remained  silent,  staring  vacantly  at  the  floor.  I 
felt  it  was  for  him  to  speak  first,  and  remained  silent 
also.  At  last  he  said,  mournfully : 

"  It  seems  strange  to  think  what  three  days  have 
brought  to  me — or,  rather  what  they  have  taken  from 
me.  It  seems  like  a  dream.  It  must  be  a  dream.  I 
shall  awake  from  it.  I  cannot  live  if  I  do  not.  How 
true  was  my  instinct !  .  I  read  it  in  her  as  well  as  i» 
him.  Must  it  be  so  ?  Dear,  dear  girl !  It  is  an  awful 
truth." 

"  What ! "  I  exclaimed,  torn  with  anguish.  His 
face  was  ashy  pale,  and  his  eyes  rolled  fiercely. 

"  It  is  so,"  he  resumed.  "  What  a  night  I  have 
passed !  But  away  with  these  vain  regrets.  Blood 
is  on  the  breeze — ay,  blood  !  Life?  Nonsense  !  Mr. 
D — - — ,  I  have  it  to  tell  you.  Last  night  that  wretch 
was  there — to  see  Ellen.  I  would  not  go  into  the 
room.  I  could  not.  I  went  early  to  my  own  room, 
which  is  directly  over  the  pjirlor.  For  an  hour  or 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  345 

two  it  was  quiet  enough.  Mother  was  gone  to  bed. 
Presently  I  heard  a  scornful  laugh — the  detestable 
voice  !  I  knew  it.  '  I  shall  die  ' — in  beseeching  tones. 
It  was  Ellen.  Another  scornful  laugh.  '  Will  you 
never  come  and  see  me  ?'  she  begged.  '  Don't  be 
foolish,  girl.'  Cold  as  an  iceberg  the  tone  was.  Ellen 
was  crying.  I  could  hear  her  sob.  '  Well,  are  you 
going  to  say  good-by,'  he  went  on  in  the  same  cold 
tone.  'How  can  you.  Oh,  my  heart  will  break!' 
Such  despair  in  her  voice  !  I  -wanted  to  go  down  and 
cut  his  heart  out ;  but  I  \vas  chained  to  the  spot. 
( Don't  make  so  much  noise,  you  pretty  wench,  or  I'll 
run  now,'  he  said.  '  Oh,  I'll  not  speak.  I  never  will 
speak  again.  But  stay.  Don't  leave  me.'  She  tried 
to  talk  low,  but.  I  heard  distinctly.  For  a  few  mo 
ments  neither  of  them  said  anything,  or  if  they  did, 
spoke  in  a  whisper.  'Are  you  going,'  she  broke  out 
almost  in  a  shriek.  '  Shut  up.  You'll  raise  the 
neighborhood.  Let  go  of  me  !  Come  now.  ISTow  do 
be  a  quiet,  staid,  little  maid,  such  as  I  found  you,  and 
let  me  go.'  '  Tell  me  you  will  write  to  me.  Tell  me 
you  will  think  of  me.  Oh,  promise!'  Such  wrild  des 
pair  !  '  Now,  wench  you're  intolerable.  Let  me  go. 
Do  you  hear?  Let  me  go.'  I  heard  a  fall.  The  band 
was  loosed.  The  next  moment  I  was  in  tke 


34:6  GREEN    MOUNTAIN 

He  was  gone,  and  Ellen  lay  there  on  the  floor  in  a 
swoon.  I  called  my  mother,  and  we  restored  her,  so 
that  slie  could  sit  up  ;  but  her  mind  wandered.  She 
r-ould  not  collect  her  ideas  so  as  to  tell  me  where  I 
would  find  the  fiend,  or  she  would  not  tell  me,  I  don't 
know  but  that  was  it.  She  knows  my  temper.  I  did 
not  trouble  her  much.  I  knew  enough.  The  dread 
ful  truth  was  clear.  I  believe  my  own  mind  wandered. 
For  a  moment  it  seemed  he  was  before  me.  I  clutched 
his  heart  and  tore  it  from  his  body.  I  threw  it  upon 
the  floor  and  stamped  it.  Mother  led  Ellen  to  her 
bed.  Poor  girl !  She  moaned.  I  never  heard  such 
a  moan.  It  maddened  me  more  than  ever.  But  the 
phantasm  was  gone.  All  was  reality  !  Oh,  such  a 
night  as  last  night  was !  I  could  not  think  of  sleep. 
But  I'm  calm  now.  About  sunrise  a  strange  calm 
ness  came  over  me, — so  deep,  so  like  a  giant  spirit 
breathing  its  whole  energy  into  mine — that  I  was  as 
tonished.  I  feel  it  now." 

I  saw  it  in  his  face,  and  there  was  something  awful 
about  it,  like  the  sense  one  gets  from  beholding  a 
distant,  steady  gleam  in  the  depths  of  night. 

"  There  is  one  little  hope,"  he  resumed ;  "but  I  do 
not  depend  upon  it.  I  don't  know  as  I  want  to.  Yet 
it  skali  uw  fairly  done.  Mr.  D ,  I  have  craved 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  347 

advice  of  you ;  but  I  don't  ask  it  now.  I  don't  want 
to  implicate  you.  I  only  want  you  to  go  with  me. 
I  am  young.  I  may  not  remain  so  calm ;  and 
want  you  to  stand  by  me.  I  know  you  are  my 
friend." 

He  readied  out  bis  band,  and  I  grasped  it,  return 
ing  bis  earnest  look. 

"  Not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost  now,"  he  continued, 
rising,  and  we  went  out  together.  As  we  were  walk 
ing  along,  be  said,  "  You  know  bis  room ;  I  will  let 
you  lead  the  way,  if  you  please."  The  hotel  was  not 
far  off.  and  we  soon  reached  it.  "  Are  you  armed  ?" 
I  asked,  as  we  ascended  the  stairs. 

"  With  truth  and  justice,"  he  replied. 

"Well,  but  that^  will  not  do,"  said  I,  halting. 
"  You  must  have  a  more  material  weapon  than  those." 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  over,"  he  pursued,  urging 
me  forward.  "  I  didn't  know  how  the  sight  of  him 
might  madden  me." 

I  could  do  no  better  than  to  yield,  and  we  went  on 
to  M.  Leopold's  room. 

The  reception  we  met  with  was  faultless  in  point 
of  politeness.  He  was,  apparently,  in  his'  happiest 
mood,  and  talked  with  us  sometime  upon  miscella 
aeous,  iuuiilei'toit  topics,  with  great  vivacity  and  elo- 


348  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

gance  of  manner.  Morgan  sustained  our  part  of  the 
conversation.  As  for  myself,  I  feared  to  open  my 
mouth,  lest  I  should  betray  my  emotions.  How  Mor 
gan  kept  so  cool,  I  could  not  comprehend.  His  man 
ner  was  light  and  easy,  having  nothing  in  it  to  betray, 
in  the  least,  the  object  of  his  coming.  While  they 
were  thus  talking,  I  looked  around  the  room.  It 
gave  evident  signs  of  its  tenant  being  about  to  depart 
Trunks,  covered  and  strapped,  ready  for  the  porter; 
an  overcoat  and  a  cloak,  carefully  brushed,  lying  on 
the  table,  and  a  portmanteau  by  their  side.  There 
could  be  no  mistake  about  it. 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  minute  or  so  in  the  con 
versation. 

"  You  are  about  leaving,  I  see,"  said  Morgan,  as 
though  it  was  a  casual  remark,  looking  around  at  the 
signs  to  which  I  have  alluded. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  he  replied,  and  there  was  a  little  defi 
ance  in  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"  When  will  you  return,  think  you — if  I  may  be 
so  bold,"  Morgan  inquired,  as  though  it  was  nothing  to 
him.  I  wondered  more  and  more  at  his  nonchalance 

"It  is  doubtful,  sir,"  replied  M.  Leopold,  still  some 
what  defiant.  I  looked  at  Morgan.  The  veins  of  his 
neck  and  temples  were  full — the  giant  spirit  v.ras  u^ci; 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  349 

him.  Bending  slightly  forward,  and  fixing  his  burn 
ing  eyes  upon  M.  Leopold,  he  said  in  a  firm  tone,  "  DC 
you  know,  sir,  why  I  have  como  here  this  morning?' 

M.  Leopold  was  not  surprised,  nor  apparently  in 
the  least  disconcerted,  and  replied  with  a  kind  of 
mocking  smile,  "  Well,  indeed,  I  don't  know,  unless  it 
was  to  bid  me  farewell.  Our  acquaintance  is  short, 
it  is  true,  but  "- 

"  Sir,  you  can  dispense  with  that  mockery,"  said 
Morgan,  interrupting  him.  "I  came  here  'n  more 
serious  business  than  to  bid  you  farewell.  I  came 
here,  sir,  in  the  first  place,  to  ask  you,  and  r,  m  must 
answer  me,  when  you  intend  to  return,  05  whether 
you  intend  to  return  at  all  or  not.'" 

"Yes,  sir.  Are  you  aware,  my  emblem  \  f  tender 
manhood,  that  you  are  decidedly  impudent  ? ' 

"  Answer  me,  sir,  or  the  consequences  be  yours," 
said  Morgan,  rising  to  his  feet. 

"Aha!  You  think  of  forcing,  matters,  I  see. 
What  do  you  think  you  will  make  out  of  it,  eh  ?" 
Young  man,  sit  down,  and  calmly  hear  me  cay  that 
— are  you  going  to  stand  ?  well,  take  it  so,  then — 
that,  in  short,  sir,  to  come  right  to  the  point,  for  I'm 
getting  serious,  that  I  shall  not  probably  visit  your 
delightful  town  egain — very  soon.  Now,  sir,—] 


350  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

know  it  isn't  polite,  but  circumstances  demand  it — • 
•will  you  leave  this  room  ?" 

"  1ST o,  sir,  not  till  I  have  done.  You  acknowledge 
that  you  do  not  intend  to  return.  I  will  spare  you 
no  longer.  Base  wretch  !" — how  scathingly  he  spoke 
it ! — "you  have  done  a  deed  which  cannot  be  passed 
over.  You  are  a  villain.  I  beard  you  with  the 
name !  And  I  call  heav" 

"  Hold  on,  young  man,"  hastily  interrupted  M. 
Leopold,  with  a  low,  husky  voice — lie.  had  lost  com 
mand  of  himself,  and  was  pale  with  passion — "  I'm 
not  accustomed  to  this.  Leave  the  room,  or  I'll  fix 
you  so  that  you  can  be  carried  out."  He  turned  to 
his  overcoat  which  was  near  at  hand,  and  drew  from 
one  of  the  pockets  a  heavy  pistol.  Prompted  by  fear 
for  my  friend's  life,  I  made  a  movement  as  though 
I  would  step  between  them  ;  but  Morgan  held  me 
back,  saying  in  a  manner  that  betokened  the  very 
opposite  of  fear,  "  He  dare  not  shoot.  Let  us  see  if 
he  dare  ;"  and  he  raised  himself  to  his  fullest  height, 
and;  folding  his  arms,  looked  down  contemptuously 
at  M.  Leopold.  The  latter  clutched  his  weapon  con 
vulsively,  and  essayed  to  level  it,  but  his  hand  trem 
bled.  After  twice  attempting,  he  desisted,  and 
slowly  arose  to  his  feet. 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  351 

•"  See  the  puppy  I"  Morgan  exclaimed.  "See  the 
extent  of  his  courage,  will  you  ?  Oli !  1  want  him  to 
shoot  me.  He  has  stolen  my  life  ;  I  want  him  to  take 
the  semblance  of  it.  Let" — — 

"  Young  man,"  interrupted  M.  Leopold  with 
tolerable  firmness  of  manner,  though  yet  pale  with 
the  tumult  of  passion,  "you  have  a  commendable 
stock  of  bravery,  I  must  confess — worthy  of  a  better 
cause." 

"  A  better  cause  !"  exclaimed  Morgan,  with  noble 
indignation. 

"Yes,  I  mean  it,"  resumed  the  other,  growing 
calmer.  "  You  are  making  a  fine  fool  of  yourself, 
without  counting  the  cost.  Moreover,  I,  for  my  part, 
can't  see  any  cause  about  it ;  and  I  don't  believe  your 
friend  here  does,  either.  You  come  here  and  put 
impudent  inquiries  to  me,  and  because  I  so  deem 
them,  you  beard  me  with  hard  names.  You  must 
be  laboring  under  some  hallucination." 

"  Flimsy  trash  !  You  know  what  you  have  done. 
You  know  you  deserve  a  lingering  death  at  my 
hands.  You  know  I  would  not  descend  to  you,  if 
you  had  not  risen  to  pollute  the  fountain  of  my  life. 
Yile  wretch  !  Serpent !  sneaking,  detestable  viper  ' 
I  will  curse  you,  and  you  shall  hear  me." 


352  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

M.  Leopold's  anger  again  got  the  master  of  him. 

"  By  G — d !  I've  a  good  mind  to  shoot  him 
down,"  he  said  huskily,  as  though  speaking  to 
himself,  glancing  alternately  at  his  weapon  and  at 
Morgan. 

"Shoot,  villain!"  said  Morgan,  with  a  sublime 
defiance ;  "  I  shall  have  a  dying  word  for  you,  that 
will  gore  your  black  heart  for  ever." 

M.  Leopold  did  not  seem  to  have  heai-d  the  remark, 
but  went  on  speaking  to  himself.  "  ]STo,  I  have  had 
enough  of  it.  Pshaw !  and  all  this  for  a  girl ! 
Young  man,"  he  continued,  looking  at  Morgan,  "you 
had  better  go  home,  and  say  nothing  about  it.  I  left 
the  girl  as  I  found  her,  do  you  understand  ?" 

Like  a  thunderbolt,  and  as  quick,  a  heavy  blow 
laid  him  senseless  upon  the  floor.  It  was  Morgan  did 
it,  exclaiming,  "  Swallow  your  foul  words  !  I  can  no 
longer  forbear."  Then  turning  to  me  he  said  calmly, 
"  If  I  have  killed  him,  think  you  I  have  not  done 
right?" 

I  stooped  to  examine  the  insensible  man.  He  was 
not  dead.  In  a  few  moments  he  opened  his  eyes, 
and  with  much  effort  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow. 
As  soon,  ^s  he  had  recovered  his  voice,  he  said, 
"  Young  man,  this  act  demands  satisfaction.  You 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAESTMENT.  353 

will  hear  from  me  soon.  I  hope  you  will  not 
refuse." 

Morgan  made  no  reply,  but  turning  slowly,  as 
though  impelled,  left  the  room.  I  followed  him,  and 
we  went  back  to  the  office. 

"  It  looks,"  said  Morgan,  after  we  had  sat  a  few 
minutes  in  silence,  "  as  though  I  went  there  on  pur 
pose  to  provoke  him  to  a  duel,  don't  it?  But  that 
was  not  my 'intention.  I  only  wanted  to-day  to  have 
him  hear  me  curse  him — curse  him  as  his  damning 
crime  deserves.  I  did  not  say  half  I  meant  to.  His 
imputation  overcame  my  prudence.  If  that  blow 
had  killed  him  I  should  have  been  sorry,  for  I  know 
that  a  few  years,  if  he  live,  will  bring  remorse — a 
punishment  more  terrible  than  man  can  invent.  Do 
you  think  he  will  challenge  me  ?" 

I  could  see  no  reason  to  doubt  it,  and  told  him  so. 

"  It  is  not  that  I  shrink  from  death  ;  but  Ellen 
would  have  no  friend  to  protect  her  if  I  should 
fall,  and  I  do  not  want  to  kill  him  so;  vengeance 
would  be  half  cheated  of  its  prey  if  I  should.  I  hope 
he  will  not  challenge  me." 

After  about  an  hour,  Morgan  went  away.  It  was 
Thursday  this  happened — Saturday  I  saw  him  again. 
He  had  received  a  challenge,  and  accepted  it,  and 


354:  GREEN   MOUNTAIN   ' 

came  to  ask  me  if  I  would  serve  as  his  assistant.  At 
first  I  thought  I  would  decline,  but  I  felt  that  the  dio 
was  cast,  that  the  dreadful  test  was  inevitable,  and 
I  ought  not — I  could  not,  the  more  I  thought  of  it^ 
-  forsake  him.  When  I  had  acceded  to  his  desire,  we 
went  out  and  walked  together.  He  talked  of  Ellen. 
"Poor  girl!"  he  exclaimed,  "she  grows  worse  and 
worse.  She  moans  and  weeps  continually.  She  will 
not  eat,  and  she  sleeps  scarcely  at  a\l.  She  will 
answer  questions,  seems  to  comprehend  what  is  going 
on  about  her,  yet  pays  little  attention  to  it.  Her 
bodily  strength  is  rapidly  failing.  I  am  afraid  she 
will  die.  She  thinks  the  villain  is  gone ,  She  knows 
nothing  about  what  is  brewing.  I  don't  want  her  to, 
until  the  result  be  known.  She  loves  the  beastly 
scoundrel.  Oh,  what  infatuation  !  I'm  going  to  kill 
him  if  I  can  do  it  fairly ;  and  if  I  do,  I  suppose  she 
will  hate  me  for  it — if  she  live.  But  she  will  not 
live.  Her  heart  is  broken.  I  know  it." 

We  walked  on,  and  came  back  to  my  office.     Just 
before  we  separated,  he  took  my  hand,  saying,  "  Mr. 

D ,  I  don't  feel  just  as  I  did  the  other  day,  about 

that  wretch.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
deserves  immediate  death — that  he  ought  not  to  roam 
farther  on  his  desolating  course.  I  do  not  mean  to 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.  355 

assassinate  him.  But  in  the  coming  contest,  you  must 
not  look  for  compromise.  One  of  us  must  die.  If 
he  live  at  the  expense  of  my  life,  perhaps  remorse 
will  visit  him  earlier.  At  all  events  I  shall  have 
done  my  duty." 

The  preliminaries  were  arranged.  The  meeting 
was  to  take  place  on  the  following  Monday  afternoon 
in  a  secluded  spot — a  kind  of  glade — some  three 
miles  from  town.  The  weapons  were  to  be  pistols, 
and  the  distance  ten  paces. 

During  the  intervening  Sunday,  I  was  with  Mor 
gan.  For  an  hour  or  two  towards  evening  I  was  at 
his  mother's.  Oh,  what  a  change  since  I  had  been 
there  ! — an  interval  of  one  week.  Ellen,  the  bril 
liant,  the  beautiful,  the  hopeful a  wreck.  Pale 

and  haggard,  her  eyes  almost  blind  with  weeping, 
her  once  glossy  tresses  wildly  scattered  over  her 
stooping  form,  she  walked  to  and  fro  in  her  room, 
moaning  unceasingly. 

"  I  love  them,  but  they  don't  love  me," — the  dis 
tant  recollection  came,  and  I  wept  unreservedly.  I 
did  not  seek  to  disturb  her,  but  tearfully  contem 
plated  her  through  the  open  door  of  her  room,  until, 
becoming  aware  of  my  presence,  she  shut  herself 
from  my  sight.  The  mother,  bowed  with  extremes! 


356  GREEN   MOUNTAIN 

sorrow,  sat  in  silence,  as  one  bereaved  of  all  that 
could  sweeten  life.  The  brother — what  a  change  in 
him  !  In  his  youth,  in  his  day  of  most  glorious  hope, 
a  viper  had  stung  him,  and  turned  all  to  darkness. 
There  was  life  yet — tierce,  pent  energy,  which  must 
work  out  in  its  terrible  power,  before  the  wreck 
should  be  complete. 

It  was  too  mournful.  I  could  not  bear  it,  and  hur 
ried  away. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  Monday,  Morgan  came  to 
the  hotel,  where  I  had  promised  to  be,  and  we 
repaired  to  the  place  of  meeting.  We  were  first  on 
the  ground,  and  sat  down  at  the  base  of  an  old  tree 
to  await  the  coming  of  the  others.  It  was  October. 
The  autumn  frosts  had  done  more  than  half  their 
work.  Tall  trees  had  begun  to  show  their  boughs 
bleakly  against  the  sky,  and  embowered  vistas  were 
coming  to  be*  naked,  desolate  paths.  A  blue  mist 
hovered  upon  the  distant  hills,  resting  less  dense  upon 
the  broad  plain  that  intervened.  The  mist  was  quiet 
• — silent.  The  sunlight,  too,  was  quiet,  and  the 
winds,  yet  eloquent  all — their  voice  the  rustling  of 
the  foiling  leaves.  The  great  Anthem  of  the  Year 
was  in  its  minor  key,  and  one  note  bore  the  burden 
of  the  melting  strain. 


TKAVEIJLEKS'    ENTERTAINMENT.  357 

"  Talk  to  me,  Mr.  D ,  I  am  very  wretched,"  said 

Morgan. 

"What  shall  it  be  about?"  I  asked,  counterfeiting 
an  encouraging  smile. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  sinking  back ; 
"  only  it  seems  I  shall  go  wild.  I  don't  want  you  to 
say  anything.  Did  it  ever  seem  so  quiet  and  mourn 
ful  before  ?  Oh,  so  mournful !  Dear,  dear  Ellen  ! 
My  sister.  What  has  been  done  ?  We  used  to  come 
here  together  for  berries  and  autumn-flowers — -years 
ago.  She  is  not  dead.  Why  not  blot  out  this  awful 
thing,  and  be  as  we  were  once,  again  ?  Alas !  it  is  a 
fixed  reality.  Death  alone  can  change  it.  It  will  be 
changed  soon.  Her  days  are  numbered.  When  she 
shall  be  in  the  grave,  if  I  live,  I  may  feel  a  melan 
choly  satisfaction— I  may  at  least  come  to  recall  these 
awful  days,  and  not  be  overwhelmed.  Hark !  did  I 
hear  a  voice  ?  Yes,  there  they  come." 

We  stood  up,  and  they  came  towards  us.  M.  Leo 
pold  and  his  assistant  on  foot,  having  left  their  car 
riage  a  short  distance  away.  M.  Leopold  was  dressed 
in  a  complete  suit  of  grey,  and  walked  with  his  eyes 
cast  down  and  his  hands  behind  him.  They  halted  a 
few  rods  from  us,  and  his  second  beckoning,  I  went 
towards  them.  The  solemn  preliminaries  were  soon 


358  GitEEN  MOUNTAIN 

arranged,  and  the  combatants  took  the  positions 
assigned  them.  When  I  placed  the  weapon  of  death 
in  Morgan's  hand,  he  said  with  a  firm,  yet  mournful 
voice : 

"  You  know  what  to  say  to  mother  and  Ellen  if  I 
fall.  Break  the  truth  carefully  to  them,  but  tell  them, 
the  truth."  He  then  added  in  a  whisper,  "  Watch 
keenly.  There'll  be  foul  play,  I  fear.  I  see  he  has  a 
knife.  Don't  let  him  get  to  me." 

"  Are  you  ready  2"  inquired  M.Leopold's  assistant 
of  the  antagonists.  They  assented.  The  word  was 
given.  A  few  moments — awful,  insupportably  awful, 
and  the  rigid  grasp  of  suspense  was  broken  by  the 
sharp,  thrilling  reports — an  instant  apart. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?"  I  asked  rushing  up  to  Morgan. 

"  No,"  he  responded,  smiling  scornfully  at  his 
antagonist;  "but  he  is  hurt!" 

I  turned  quickly,  and  saw  M.  Leopold  struggling  in 
the  grasp  of  his  assistant. 

"  Let  me  go  !"  he  howled,  in  wild  frenzy.  "  Let 
me  go  !  Let  me  reach  him.  Get  out  my  knife  for 
me.  I  swear  I  can't  see.  O,  God  ! — too  deep  ! — Oh  ! 
Oh!"  and  with  a  ghastly  shudder  he  sank  lifeless. 

I  assisted  in  bearing  the  remains  to  the  carriage. 
When  we  had  adjusted  them,and  the  man  had  mounted 


TRAVELLERS'  ENTERTAINMENT.       359 

to  his  seat,  I  looked  around  for  Morgan.  He  was 
gone.  I  lingered  about  for  a  while  waiting  ;  but  he 
did  not  make  his  appearance,  and,  at  length  I  returned 
to  town,  going  to  rny  office  as  though  nothing  had 
happened. 

They  bore  the  tidings  to  Ellen.  At  first  she  would 
not  believe  them ;  but  being  solemnly  assured,  the 
anguishing  truth  came  to  her  shattered  mind. 

"  He  is  dead,  and  my  brother  killed  him,"  she  said 
tremblingly,  and  with  a  low,  desolate  wail,  she  sank 
insensible. 

Unhappy  being  !  "From  that  hour  she  was  dead  tc 
this  world.  A  slow,  consuming  fever,  accompanied 
with  stupor  and  delirium,  took  fatal  hold  upon  her, 
and  day  by  day  the  lingering  traces  of  what  she  once 
was  passed  away. 

At  length  her  physician  announced  that  she  must 
die.  We  gathered  around  her  couch.  It  was  night. 
She  murmured  in  her  delirium,  and  we  bent  to  catch 
the  sounds.  "  Brother,  brother,"  wildly  pathetic.  A 
shadow  darkened  the  wall,  and  suddenly  a  tall  form 
stood  by  the  bed.  It  was  Morgan,  unexpectedly 
returned. 

"  Ellen,"  said  he  appealingly,  taking  her  passive 
hand,  "Ellen,  do  you  know  me?  I  am  Morgan." 


360  GKEEN   MOUNTAIN 

She  stared  vacantly  at  him,  and  then  closed  her 
eyes.  She  did  not  know  him.  He  bent  closer  and 
kissed  her.  Then,  quivering  with  a  grief  that  has  no 
tears,  he  left  the  room.  Again  we  heard  her  murmur 
"  Brother ;"  but  we  knew  it  was  only  a  wandering 
memory  of  other  years,  and  we  did  not  call  him 
back. 

Her  breath  grew  fainter,  fainter.  We  gazed  in 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  sobs  of  the  agonized  mother. 
As  we  gazed  a  sudden  light  gleamed  from  the  eyes  of 
the  dying  one.  She  raised  her  hands  as  if  reaching 
for  some  treasure  almost  within  her  grasp,  and  that 
magic  smile  shot  forth  its  thrilling  radiance.  She 
seemed  about  to  speak,  but  with  a  long  sigh  she 
ceased  to  breathe.  The  light  of  her  eyes  was  gone  ; 
the  smile  became  as  a  smile  in  marble.  Ellen's  spirit 
was  no  longer  ours  to  know  and  love. 

Thus  the  sorrowful  remembrance  which  thirty-five 
years  had  scarcely  dimmed,  came  to  me,  and  I  wept 
afresh,  and  turning  from  the  hallowed  grave,  I  went 
away  sated  with  sadness. 

THE    END. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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